Dying Over and Over Again In My Dreams
by TB's LMC
Summary: After an odd occurrence in a helicopter, Scully is in an unexplainable coma. Written and originally posted to Gossamer in 1999.
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers**: _XFFTF_ and minor parts of several past episodes.

**Summary**: After an odd occurrence in a helicopter, Scully is in an unexplainable coma.

**Author's Note**: Almost every part of this story came from dreams I had – both the dreams and the story occurred in 1999, so if it's weird...blame my subconscious from 12 years ago. Please keep the following in mind as you read-the bracket type indicates whose thoughts you are reading:

*Mulder's thoughts.*

-Scully's thoughts.-

'Skinner's thoughts.'

* * *

><p><strong>DYING OVER AND OVER IN MY DREAMS<strong>

-I can hear some of his thoughts as surely as I hear my own. But only a passing few. Not everything he does makes sense. I don't understand. Over and over again I dream of us, but not us. Some dreams are very short, others are very long. Different places, different times, different us's. But we *are* us, at the most basic core of who we seem to be. Or not. We're the same. But different. The one man I could never live without. I'm not sure who exactly he is, yet I know him better than I know myself. I know who I am, but don't know. I think the same, yet my thoughts are different. I do not awaken. The times between the dreams are black. The dreams come like an old friend I do not wish to see, for I know they will only hurt me as they did when last we met. Why can't I wake up? Where am I that I'm destined to relive this endlessly? Relive him dying over and over again in my dreams?-

* * *

><p>Suddenly her lips were on his. She was passionately kissing this man Fox Mulder.<p>

For Dana Scully, time stood still. Her mind briefly questioned what she was doing, as she'd only just been introduced to him ten minutes ago, but all rational thought soon fled as the rest of her body responded to what her lips felt. Her hungry mouth devoured those full, pouty lips. She snaked her arms around his neck, grinding his face into hers.

Fox, for his part, was stunned as hell when she launched herself at him. However, he recovered quickly, and returned her fevered advances equally roughly. Kissing her was like standing in the middle of a 4th of July fireworks show. He could almost swear he heard the oohs and aahs of the

assembled onlookers as each firework hissed from ground to sky and exploded in colored blossoms, tendrils screaming and whistling outward from the core of each booming center.

*Why in God's name is this woman kissing me?*

*Who the hell cares?*

Dana opened her eyes for a moment, only to find her partner behind Mulder with a cooking pot turned sideways, frantically gesturing for her to see her reflection.

She was about to close her eyes and ignore Paul, when for some reason she looked at the side of the pan and saw herself, on her knees, kissing Mulder. He, too, was on his knees, and she was desperately trying to push his black leather jacket off him.

There was an audible POP! as she backed away from the kiss and gasped. At this point, though, her irrational mind didn't give a fig what Paul or any of the bar's other patrons thought of her. "Let's get out of here," she hissed. She jumped to her feet and tore out of the bar with Fox hot on her heels.

Paul Davidson could only stand at the door of Smoky's Bar and stare after the retreating forms in wonder. He'd never, ever seen his partner do...that. But as he watched, the faintest of smiles appeared fleetingly across his face, and was gone before a soul noticed.

She ran and ran, feeling simultaneously as though she were running away from him and running to him. Suddenly she was tired, and hopped into the first car she came to on the street.

-What the hell am I doing?-

Her breath came in ragged bits as she stared through the windshield of the car, the rational and logical side of her brain fighting like hell to regain control from the irrational and illogical side. She turned her face up towards the driver's side window and saw Fox Mulder standing there staring at her, most obviously displeased with her choice of resting places.

He opened the door, reached down, and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Come on. I know a place." His voice was husky.

And they ran. Why did this feel so familiar to her? Running with this man, hand-in-hand, as though someone were chasing them. Running away from danger. Running toward danger. Breathless, a stitch in her side, must continue. I'll die if I don't. We'll die if we don't. Must keep running. Fuck the

pain, the weakness, the lack of oxygen.

Where were these thoughts coming from? Why did this all feel so right, yet so very wrong?

Running, running, running. Until at last they reached a hotel which looked to Dana like it was about half beds and half bugs. Seedy little place. It felt familiar, though. She stood as if in a trance as Mulder paid the clerk for a room. He got the key, then came to her. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down the row of rooms until he stopped abruptly in front of their room. Room 42.

42, 42, 42. The number rang a bell. Room 42. Room...no, apartment. Apartment 42. But whose apartment? Hers? No, hers was...what was hers? Certainly not a number as high as 42. No. But who, then?

He pulled her inside. He faced her, his gaze fiercely captivating, his eyes speaking volumes. She stumbled backwards into something, and whirled around to find herself toe-to-toe with a second man. She gasped and screamed. Dana Scully had never, ever screamed like that. Ever. Mulder would've called it a girlie scream.

Mulder. How did she know what he would've called her scream? And why was she thinking of him by his last name only?

The intruder grasped Dana's upper left arm, digging his fingers into her soft flesh, bruising her even through her blouse.

Mulder. He roared as the stranger touched her. She thought it strange how he sounded like an angry mother bear or a hungry lioness, but only for a moment. He lunged at the man, throwing his full body into him. As they sprawled out onto the floor, the man's hand lost its hold on Dana's arm.

With a screech, she turned, threw open the motel room door, and bolted out into the parking lot.

Until mortal fear and ultimate dread filled her being and stopped her in her tracks as a shot rang out. What had she done? He wasn't an FBI agent, he didn't have a gun. She'd left him. She had a gun. He didn't. She should have stayed.

-But why do I have a gun? FBI agent...he isn't but I...am. I'm an FBI agent! Oh, dear God!-

She turned back towards Room 42. He was coming. The man. The intruder. His gun was drawn and pointed straight at her. Reflexively, she reached down to her holster, grasped her Sig firmly in her right hand, -Wait, that wasn't there a moment ago.-and raised it level with his approaching chest.

The gun, although a foreign object to her mind, felt familiar in her hand. The cool metal in her sweaty palm served to calm her nerves. A hard mask covered her face. Her hand became steady as she took aim.

-Yes, I know this. As familiar as my own name. I do this. This is something I know.-

"Federal agent, drop your weapon!" she barked, tightening her index finger over her own weapon's trigger.

He didn't halt. Instead, he fired. She returned his fire, even as she dropped to the ground to avoid his bullet. When she looked up, she saw her aim had indeed been true. Dana scrambled over to the lifeless form, noting with detachment the chest wound which had killed him instantly.

She then looked towards 42, and ran to the door. She stopped and stared open-mouthed. Tears sprang to her eyes and just as quickly rolled down her cheeks. Her mouth shut and opened and shut again of its own volition, seeking to speak words for which she could find no voice.

-No. It can't be. Not him.-

Her heart tore in two as she rushed in and knelt next to him, knelt in a gathering pool of blood on the thin, cheap, ratty carpet. Tears flowing freely, she reached out to touch his face.

He sputtered, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He choked and coughed, spitting blood and saliva all over himself and her clothing. His eyes opened, but they were unfocused. He appeared to be looking in her direction, but hazel eyes which once sparkled with a burning intensity now glazed over as he neared death.

"No." Dana sobbed softly. "Not yet. It's too soon."

Fox slowly raised a bloody hand to her cheek as she bent over him, using one finger to trace along her face, leaving a line of his own fresh blood in its wake. He sputtered again, then spoke his last words.

"Love you...Sc-Scu-lleee."

His voice trailed off. His hand dropped to the floor. His eyes closed. His head lolled to the right.

He was gone.

An indescribable, never-before-categorized pain borne of loss and rage burned in Dana, starting at her toes and shooting up toward her mouth, where it caused the most blood-curdling scream ever heard by man to emerge from her lips.

"MMMUUULLLDDDEEERRR!"

* * *

><p>A scream unlike any he'd heard before jolted him awake. At first, he felt like he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning, and jumped to his feet, looking wildly about him.<p>

*Where am I?*

Then his eyes turned downward toward the small figure laying in the hospital bed. Calming somewhat, he leaned over her, peering at her face in the semi-darkness. Could that scream have come from her? Or could it have come from his own overly tired mind?

Mulder quickly went to the light switch and flipped it on. Glancing at his watch, he found it to be 3:14am. He returned to Scully's side. His lips parted slightly in disbelief as his hand made its way to her cheek. He ran his finger along the mark which had not been there an hour ago before he'd fallen asleep in the chair by her bed. He sniffed the substance on his fingers.

Blood.

He searched her for a wound, but found none. It was then he noticed the still-wet tracks running down both her temples and pooling in her ears. Freshly wept tears. His eyes happened to dart down and to the left, where her arm had somehow come out from under the sheet where he himself had placed it. He lifted her arm, intending to replace it under said sheet when he spotted them.

Five perfectly shaped bruises were just beginning to form on her upper arm. They were red in color, as though made recently, but he could see the purples, blues and blacks starting to appear. They looked like fingerprints.

"What the-? Scully?"

He waited for her to respond, but she lay perfectly still, breathing steadily. He noticed then that she'd kicked the bed sheet off her feet at some point. As he looked back to her face, searching for some clue as to what had happened, he noticed that her lips seemed slightly swollen.

*Jesus, Mulder, it's a damn shame you can tell when those lips of hers are fuller than usual. Been staring at them one too many times, have we?*

He mentally shook that inner voice away and hit the Call Button hanging from the bars of the bed. She must have shoved it through the bars as she thrashed about.

Thrashed about?

*She's in a coma, for crying out loud! She can't thrash!*

Yet there she was, exhibiting signs indicating not only movement, but bruising and bloodiness as well. But where had the blood come from?

The nurse entered and Fox went through his discoveries with her while she jotted everything down on Scully's chart.

"And you have no idea how any of this happened?" the nurse asked.

"None. I was awakened suddenly by a scream. Actually, now that I think about it, it was my name. She was screaming my name. Screaming it like bloody murder."

"But Mr. Mulder, nobody else on this floor heard anything. I certainly didn't. And none of the other patients have reported any disturbances. Are you certain she screamed?"

Mulder's brow furrowed in self-doubt. He'd swear on a stack of X-Files that she'd screamed his name, but he still couldn't figure out whether it had actually been her or if it had been in his head. "Either that or I dreamed it. Whichever it was, that's what woke me up, and this is what I woke up to."

Fox had rarely been so unsure of himself. How is it he couldn't discriminate between a real scream and a one fabricated by his brain? It had been, it seemed, so very real. What the hell was going on?

* * *

><p>Dr. Kevin Laurintz knocked softly on the door of Room #506 before entering. After having spoken with the imposing Assistant Director Skinner yesterday evening, he had reluctantly agreed to allow his patient's partner to stay in her room with her. Skinner had used the odd argument that after much experience with this type of thing, Agent Scully would get better faster if Agent Mulder were there. He was to be using the second bed for himself, so it was with no small amount of disdain that Kevin found Mr. Mulder half-sitting on a chair, his upper body and head resting on the bed and his partner's hip, respectively. He'd seen this guy get frantic over her yesterday, though, so had little desire to wake him up.<p>

With this thought in mind, Laurintz proceeded to check Dana Scully out as thoroughly as possible. He frowned as he read Nurse Aimen's report from earlier that morning. He noted that Agent Mulder had requested the blood he'd found on Ms. Scully's cheek be typed. Now he had to examine her left arm, which meant he had to wake him.

He laid his hand on the man's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Agent Mulder."

Mulder snapped to attention, sitting straight up in the chair.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mulder. I need to get a look at the bruises and you were-in the way."

Fox nodded stupidly. He was bone tired and barely functioning. It was now 7:14am, exactly four hours since the scream had awakened him. He'd been asleep for maybe an hour-and-a-half this time. He rubbed his 5 o'clock shadow with his hand as he headed for the bathroom. He thought about how he'd called Mrs. Scully (call me Maggie, she'd said after learning how Fox had gone to Antarctica to save her remaining daughter) the day before to inform her of the latest medical problem. Like the poor woman really needed to hear about it.

Maggie Scully had, only one week earlier, been involved in a serious car accident. One which had broken both her legs and both her arms, as well as done some damage to some ribs, fingers and toes. She'd been in California visiting her son Bill and his family. One day she was driving Bill's Jeep to the grocery store when a small delivery truck had slammed into her vehicle head-on.

She'd been lucky to survive, but was now facing a long hospital stay and an even longer recuperative period. And Scully had wanted to be there for her.

They had only found out about it two days ago. They'd been out in the middle of nowhere in Canada, so far out their cellphones weren't working, and they had no transportation. Finally AD Skinner had sent a Mountie out to find them and inform Scully that Bill had been frantically trying to reach her regarding her mother.

So Scully, Mulder and the Mountie traveled to the nearest town, where Scully had called her brother. In that moment, time had stopped for both she and her concerned partner. It was with a shaky voice and red, teary eyes that she relayed the news of her mother's condition to him. He shuddered as he recalled the look of horror permanently fixed upon her face, the lost look in her eyes, the way her voice trembled along with her lower lip, the tears she fought valiantly to hold back, the way her entire body had begun to quiver as she'd told him the particulars of the accident and her mom's injuries.

Fox Mulder had never seen Dana Scully so vulnerable or hurt in all their six years together. Simply put, it had killed something inside him. More so than her own abduction or her cancer. More than when Melissa had been murdered. More than any of the numerous times her own life had been in danger. The sheer pain he saw that day in his partner's eyes outweighed anything previously witnessed.

Because this was much more painful to her than any of those earlier events. He could tell she was wondering whether or not the Consortium had anything to do with this, and he could also tell she was leaning toward an answer in the affirmative. Her face betrayed the extreme level of anguish this news had brought her to.

It had never seen an equal.

Never before had They gone after her mother.

He splashed cool water on his face and cupped water in his hands, slurping it up noisily. He toweled his face dry and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink.

*You're beautiful, baby.* he thought sarcastically.

He emerged into the room just as Dr. Laurintz was completing his examination. He carefully pulled the sheet up to Scully's chin and was writing in her chart when Mulder approached.

"So, what's the good word, Doc?"

"Well, Mr. Mulder, other than the bruising, I see nothing indicating that Ms. Scully's physical condition has changed since I last examined her. I cannot understand how these bruises could have gotten here, nor how the blood could have appeared on her cheek. Do you know anyone whose blood type is AB-?"

Fox's face drained of color. "Wha-what did you say?"

Kevin eyed the overtired man warily. He didn't relish the thought of having Agent Fox Mulder faint on him, which is what it seemed he was about to do. "I asked if you knew anyone with type AB- blood."

He swallowed the huge lump rising in his throat. "That was the type on her cheek?"

The doctor nodded. "A nurse brought me the results of the test while you were using the restroom."

"Yes, I know someone with type AB- blood. Me." Mulder replied softly.

"Any suggestions on how your blood would have gotten on her face? Do you have any cuts, scrapes, scratches or other wounds which are bleeding or could have bled earlier this morning?"

"No." Fox squeaked, jamming his fists into his jeans pockets.

"And you're sure you don't know where those bruises came from."

Fox could only nod his head slowly, staring at Scully's cherubic face as she slept on, oblivious to the confusion he felt. Then it hit him. Dr. Laurintz wanted to know about his blood and the bruises on her arm. He tore his eyes away from his partner's face to look directly into the doctor's eyes. "I-I would never-*could* never-hurt her, Doctor."

Kevin studied his eyes. They were tired, they were sad, they were hurt, they were confused. But they were honest. He felt Mr. Mulder was telling the truth about his ignorance regarding Ms. Scully's-problems. So Kevin stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Mulder's shoulder, their eyes still locked. "I don't believe you could, Mr. Mulder."

Fox smiled genuinely at the man, relieved that his character wasn't being called into question by this outsider. Skinner would have known it without asking, but this guy didn't know him and Scully-didn't understand their relationship and everything they'd been through together. "Thank you." He said.

"I'm going to give you something to make you sleep, Mr. Mulder."

"No, I need to stay awake to talk to her."

"That's what I'm here for." came a booming voice from the doorway.

Fox started slightly as Walter Skinner's voice rang in his ears. "Sir?"

"Agent Mulder, I have been told you are not sleeping properly."

"That's nothing new, Sir." Mulder deadpanned.

"Nevertheless, I am ordering you to climb into that bed and sleep for at least eight hours, and Dr. Laurintz will be administering a sedative to see that you stay there. No being valiantly stubborn today. I will sit with Agent Scully until such time as you can function properly."

"This is an order?" Fox asked meekly. Truth be told, his body and mind were both screaming at him to hop into that bed just as his boss had told him to.

"It is." Walter smiled slightly. He would normally not take time off work to sit by a subordinate's bedside, but number one: these two were special to him and had been through more hell than the rest of the Bureau combined, and number two: he knew damn well Fox Mulder would never go to sleep if there was no one else around to watchdog his partner. He became amused as he wondered how his spitfire agent would take it if she knew these two grown men were hovering over her like a mother hen. She'd probably shoot them both.

"I guess I have no choice, then." Mulder mumbled as he went to the empty bed. He lay down and fell asleep almost immediately. Dr. Laurintz pulled a syringe out of his pocket and quickly gave Mulder the shot.

"That'll keep him under for at least eight hours, if not more." He told the balding man in front of him.

Walter hung his trenchcoat in the closet and seated himself in the chair at Agent Scully's side. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for getting in touch with me. These two are the best agents the Bureau has, but they need more-special attention than most."

"I can see why. After looking at Ms. Scully's medical history, I'm glad I'm just her doctor and not her boss!"

Skinner chuckled.

"I'll be back to check up on her in a few hours. If you need anything, if something happens, press the Call Button."

"I will. Thanks again."

Walter sat staring at Agent Scully for a bit. His mind brought forth everything which had befallen this vivacious young woman, and he wondered how many things there were that no one but her partner knew. He could've killed Mulder at first when he'd asked for help getting to Antarctica. But he was genuinely surprised and pleased that the younger man was showing so much trust in him. Either that or the poor bastard had been desperate as hell. And so he'd helped Mulder get a flight up there almost immediately, helped him get all the gear he'd need, helped him arrange for the Snow Cat, and helped plant a tracking device securely in his outer pant leg, which was ultimately how the two beleaguered agents had been rescued.

To his astonishment, Mulder had thanked him repeatedly and even bought him lunch one day. Will wonders never cease? Skinner had been appalled at Agent Scully's condition upon their return. And he'd been so very proud of her that day soon thereafter when she'd sat in front of the council and basically told them, although not in so many words, "If you don't give us back the X-Files you can all to go hell."

He chuckled at that memory, and at how quickly it had been decided to reopen the division and to reassign Mulder and Scully to it, with Skinner still as their boss. He chuckled again. No one else would want to be their boss but him. He'd hated it at first, those six years ago, and even up to four years ago he still moaned at having to watchdog them so much. But he'd developed a healthy respect for both of them and their quest for truth and justice. And he himself had seen so many things, that he wanted them to stop the Consortium-he was sick to death of the whole game. So he had begun trying even harder to help them, almost getting killed once or twice along the way.

And he had earned their trust. And they had earned his compassion and respect.

His mind then strayed to Mulder's account of what had happened to Agent Scully this time, barely four months after their return from Antarctica. According to him, and Skinner had no reason to doubt the man's story, they were flying in an army transport helicopter back to D.C. so Agent Scully could pack some items, put in a request for time off, and fly out to California to be with her mother who, it seemed, had been involved in a rather nasty auto accident.

Skinner's secretary Kimberly had already had most of the paperwork filled out for her, and the AD had already signed it. The forms awaited only her signature. However, before she could come in to sign them, Walter had received a telephone call from Agent Mulder, asking him to come to their hospital. He'd smiled sardonically at the use of `our hospital' by Mulder, but had rushed there lickety-split.

Only to find a bewildered, agitated and near-hysterics Mulder with an unconscious, comatose Scully. Only they could attract trouble and illness the way a magnet attracts iron filings, he had thought at the time. An hour after he'd arrived, he'd finally gotten somewhat of a story from Agent Mulder.

Apparently the helicopter ride was going smoothly. Mulder was comforting his partner as best he could, there was little or no air turbulence and the pilot said they'd be back to D.C. before they knew it.

However, only thirty minutes into the flight, the pilot and the two agents had apparently blacked out, only to find themselves back in the air, hovering directly over Dulles, a full *six* hours later. The pilot and Mulder had come to quickly, but Agent Scully could not be roused. So Mulder had asked the pilot to land on the hospital's heli-pad, and in a flash Scully was in the hospital going through a battery of tests. But the doctors could find no reason behind her coma. Her brain seemed fine, her body seemed fine. In all, she seemed perfectly healthy. Except that she would neither wake up nor respond to external stimuli of any type. Not even Agent Mulder's repeated cries to her would bring her out of it. She was hooked up to no machinery, no monitors, nothing except a feeding tube IV. Yet she slept on.

So Dr. Laurintz had called Skinner this morning before he'd even been in to see his patient. The nurse had left him a voice mail message that Agent Mulder seemed extremely worn out and at his nerves' end, and that she was concerned for his continued well-being, as he refused to allow himself proper

sleep. The doctor felt his boss should know, and so he called. Skinner was glad to be able to help. Mulder would be no good to either himself or Scully if he were to get sick from sheer idiocy.

Unfortunately, his subordinate hadn't been able to supply any sort of ideas as to what had transpired during those missing hours. Skinner wondered which pissed the agent off more: the fact that something unknown happened or that his eidetic memory couldn't recall it. All the more was the younger man's frustration that he could do nothing to help Scully come out of this except be there for her.

'Well I can be here for the both of them. It's high time I started paying them back.'

He turned to regard the soundly sleeping Fox Mulder. He'd never seen his face so at peace. But he doubted the man's mind was experiencing any such respite. From what he'd gathered over the years, Mulder's mind never rested.

He then let his brain's workings drift to matters of a more personal nature. Although he was fairly certain the partners had never physically crossed the 'invisible line,' he knew in his heart that their souls and minds were joined in a union more perfect and pure than any sexual act could attain. How many times had he seen their constant, undying devotion to each other? How many times had they put their careers, nay, their very *lives* on the line for the sake of the other? The penultimate culmination of this was Mulder's trip to Antarctica to save Scully. The agent had never given it a second thought. She was there. She was in trouble. She needed him. He was going. End of story. More than willing to give his life for hers. On this as on many other occasions.

But this had in some way-felt different to Walter. The determination and sheer will he'd seen in the man's eyes that day he'd requested his assistance had jolted Walter's very being, as though shaken by an 8.5 earthquake. Something, somehow, had changed for them, but he couldn't quite judge what it was. Had they finally admitted their true feelings for one another, only to have her ripped from his very arms?

Walter didn't know why he thought that, but it seemed the perfect explanation for what he'd seen in Mulder's eyes that day. He had to help. If not as a boss helping a subordinate, then as a friend helping a friend whose very essence has been stripped from him prematurely. For Walter S. Skinner, hard-ass from hell, there was little more choice in the matter than there had been for Fox Mulder. He'd not given it a moment's contemplation before picking up the phone and barking orders to those on the other end. He thought, as Mulder had turned to leave his office, that he'd seen a flash of something in the man's eyes. Thanks? Gratitude? Dare he even hope for-respect?

He almost hated to admit even to himself how much he'd come to crave that in his life. Respect. He had it from most corners, except possibly from the three most important people in his life: Mulder, Scully and that Cigarette-Smoking SOB. Well, it was possible CSM had some ounce of respect for him since that incident with the digital tape and Albert Holsteen. But he knew the bastard didn't view him as an equal, as someone to be both feared and admired. He wanted that from him, that small measure of reverence that he was someone to be contended with. That he would not lay down and die so easily. He doubted whether CSM would ever give him the satisfaction of it, though. It wasn't his style.

He thought Scully respected him, but she never really showed it if she did. He felt only sorrow at that, for the one thing she could never know would surely have placed him well on her list. He'd made that blasted deal with Cancer Man to save her life. He knew Mulder suspected as much, but thankfully the younger man had never confronted him about it. He wondered if Mulder had any idea what price CSM had extracted from him for Agent Scully. Perhaps he did, and that's what kept him at bay. He also wondered if Mulder resented him for having taken on the role that he perhaps felt he rightfully should have played. Instead of Mulder saving the day in that case, Skinner's deal with the devil had done so.

And no one but CSM and Skinner would ever know the truth. No one *could* ever know the truth. At least, that's the way it was supposed to work. Walter had, indeed, sold his soul to the devil. He could still help his two agents in their pursuit of the truth, but when the time came, Walter Skinner would cease to be Walter Skinner and become, in essence, a child of evil. And he would then force Mulder to kill him. That was how he'd figured it all out. CSM would call in the favor, Skinner would be ready to comply, and he would engage his rogue agent in such a way that the poor man had no choice but to end Walter's life.

That would be his ultimate triumph. He would leave Mulder a message on his body, one that he was certain Mulder would find after his death, and not only would CSM be out a pawn, but Mulder would have in his hands the one secret which could be the undoing of the entire Consortium. The one secret Walter had been told to keep him in line. To insure he wouldn't defect from his agreement.

Walter smirked at the irony of the situation. Apparently CSM hadn't thought that his personage could be bugged just like anyone else's. And the meeting he'd gone to after his meeting with Walter that day had been a revelation to Skinner as he'd listened to the conversation in the privacy of his own home. He remembered his thoughts as he pieced together what the man had told him combined with snippets from this conversation.

'I've got you, you sonofabitch! I've finally got you!'

He shook his head, wanting to rid himself of this train of thought. He gazed once more at Dana Scully and stared at her countenance in silent wonder at the unexplainable bond between she and Mulder. The ability they had to speak volumes with only their eyes, the uncanny gift they had of knowing what the other was thinking or doing even when physically separated, the lengths they were more than willing to go to in order to protect and help each other. He had never witnessed such love.

For, whether they or anyone else wished to acknowledge it, these two loved each other almost more than life itself. They were the other's air to breathe. One would not survive without the other, plain and simple.

Pretty scary stuff.

'And way too deep for me.'

Somewhere along the way, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had become one living, breathing unit. Together they were everything.

'Together they are our only hope to fight the future. Please come back to

us, Dana. To him. Please.'


	2. Chapter 2

A figure stood outside the closed door of Room #506. He watched through the window as he listened to the thoughts of Dana and Fox's boss.

"Oh, she will come back. But only if she and Fox complete the journey together. Not before. And you, Walter: your life shall not end as you see it. If they come out of this together, you will not need to die to save them. They will save themselves. I know they can do it. It is their destiny. And yours lies with them."

And the stranger walked away unnoticed down the corridor. Had anyone asked to see his ID, they would have found his name to be Paul Davidson. Well, his Earthly name, anyway.

* * *

><p>Dana sighed heavily as she sat in the chair at the desk contemplating the purplish-black liquid which filled the bottom inch of the plastic-coated paper cup. Its properties were such that she could only guess at its identity. The man who refused to tell her his name had told her all he knew: that it was an opium-based extract, but mixed with several other chemicals which could only be...and here he'd lost her...extraterrestrial in origin. Neither of them knew why, but it seemed the only thing the liquid wouldn't disintegrate was this plastic-coated cup. And so it sat on the small desk in the motel, waiting for the man's friends to come pick it up tomorrow morning. He said it needed further study-the type of study which warranted extreme and unorthodox measures.<p>

Special Agent Dana K. Scully was not altogether certain she trusted the man, whom she'd come to call X for lack of anything better, but he seemed honest, if somewhat spooky. She laughed to herself as she thought, -Perhaps I should have nicknamed him Spooky.-. Besides, she had no choice in the matter-her heart had made the decision for her.

X. Spooky. X. Spooky. Hmmm. Resoundingly familiar, as was he. Yet she couldn't place the feelings stirring within her, couldn't figure out exactly why she'd agreed to help X in the first place, let alone put her job on the line for doing so.

X had come to her purely by accident one week earlier. She'd been on a stakeout with a rookie agent just assigned to VCS by the name of Paul Davidson. Deciding nothing much would happen that night, and noting Paul's lack of enthusiasm for his current assignment, Dana had ordered him back to the Bureau to do some necessary research. She sat there for three hours after he'd left in a cab, watching the house in question. They were after an opium dealer, and had gained information indicating this was the house he was operating out of. But so far it had been quiet.

At approximately 3:14am, she noticed some movement to the side of the house and left the safety of her blue Taurus -Taurus. Familiar car. Too familiar. But why?- to investigate. Gun drawn, she carefully approached the figure who seemed to be trying to wriggle out of a basement window.

"Federal agent, freeze!" she barked, aiming her weapon at the figure's head.

The man froze as requested, lifting his face up to look at her. She gasped. He was bruised and cut. Dried blood covered his face and torso, which was naked. Smudges of dirt dotted his body, and in his hand he held a cup with about two inches of a dark liquid in it.

"Help me," he croaked, reaching out to her with his free hand.

"Who are you?" She knew this wasn't Chester Krieg, the dealer they'd been after. A sudden pang of recognition swept through her being as she looked at his face. But it passed as quickly as it had come. He did look like he'd been through hell.

"Please, there's no time. He'll be back soon. He was holding me captive. I just managed to escape. Please help me."

Dana stared at his face for a long while, contemplating her choices. She could either cuff him and take him back to the Bureau for questioning, or let him go and pray he wasn't one of Chester's cronies. "Come all the way out and stand up with your hands behind your head."

"Could you...take this from me? I can't hold my hands behind my head with it."

She thought for a moment. Oh, what could it hurt? "What is it?"

"Be very, very careful," he said, extending the cup to her. "This stuff is lethal. It'll eat through anything it touches. Don't spill it."

"It's not eating through the cup," Dana remarked as she took the cup from him and sniffed it. She recoiled in disgust at the odor which greeted her nose.

"No," the man said as he pulled himself out of the window and, with some difficulty, stood to his full height. A good eight inches higher than Dana herself. "Apparently it won't eat through that cup. I think the plastic coating has something to do with it."

"What is it?" she asked again.

"It's based on an opium extract, but it also has other components, some of which may be...extraterrestrial in origin."

"Excuse me?" she asked, her gun still pointed at the stranger.

"Please, I promise I'll explain it all to you. But we have to leave before he comes back! When he discovers I've escaped and took some of that with me, he'll kill me!"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Dana asked levelly, her steady voice betraying her churning gut.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he countered.

"You don't have much of a choice. I've got the gun."

"Good point. Look, I know this seems really weird, but please, I'm in a lot of pain here, and I need to get away before Krieg returns. You can trust me."

His hazel eyes caught her blue ones, and in that one instant, both of them knew they'd found 'The One.' Neither could explain it, but something passed between them in that moment that told them everything they needed to know and all the things they could not ask.

"Let's go," Dana said, breaking the spell. She was thoroughly confused now, but knew she had to help him, whatever the cost. She holstered her gun and headed for her car, with X following behind her.

"Be careful not to splash that liquid on yourself. I've seen men the size of linebackers melt into nothingness from just a drop of it. Here, let me take it."

She gladly handed him the cup, reminding herself that he was probably crazy, what with all the talk of extraterrestrials and melting men. But that wasn't important now. They scurried into the car, and Dana sped off, back towards her apartment. She didn't know where else to go.

"Where are we going?"

"To my place. We sure can't go to the Bureau."

"We shouldn't go to your place either. It's too dangerous. You don't want these men knowing where you live, believe me."

"Then what did you have in mind?"

"How about a motel? Listen, I only need help until my friends come to get this stuff off me. I have to contact them, and they won't like having to come to a federal agent's home anyway. They'll feel safer coming to a motel room. And I think we'll be safer there, too."

She thought about that for a moment. "Okay. I guess that makes sense. These friends of yours sound paranoid."

"Aren't we all?" He smiled a lopsided sort of grin.

"Whatever. Do you know a place?"

"Yeah. Take a right up here, then take your second left and keep going for about ten miles."

"That's way out of town."

"Yes. We can't stay in D.C."

"I don't live in D.C."

"Most people don't. We need to get away, you know what I mean?"

"You're lucky I don't just dump you on the side of the road and have done with you. I don't even know your name."

"I-I really don't want to tell you."

"Why not?"

"It will be more dangerous for you if you know my true identity. It's bad enough you know my face. Especially being an FBI agent and all."

"Why? Are you on the run from the law?"

"Well, yes and no. I'm not really a criminal, but the government doesn't like what I do."

"Which is...?"

"Try to uncover their conspiracies and keep the public informed."

"Ooookaaaay. Well, we can talk about that later. Do you want to use my cellphone to call your, uh, friends?"

"That would be great. Thanks."

She handed him her cellphone and he placed the cup of liquid in the dashboard cup holder. He dialed seven digits and put the phone to his ear. After several seconds he spoke.

"Yeah, Frohike, it's me, turn the tape off...No, I'm on a cellphone...No, it's not mine, it's..." to Scully he said, "Who are you?"

"Special Agent Dana K. Scully, Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"You heard that, right, Frohike?...Yes, she can be trusted...No, I only met her tonight...Yeah, would you? Just to be sure...Will you shut up for a minute? Jesus, man, I've got a sample of the opium extract...Yes, I want you and the guys to analyze it...Yes, it's the stuff that disintegrates things on

contact...I have it with me...We're going to the Bel-Mar just outside Arlington...What? All right, that'll have to do...Sure, it's okay. See ya then."

He handed the phone back to her. "Dammit. They can't come until tomorrow morning. The other two are off somewhere, and Frohike refuses to come alone when there's an FBI agent around."

"Gee, thanks, he doesn't even know me."

"No, but Frohike trusts no one. Neither do I."

"You seem to trust me."

"Can't explain that one. Then again, you have the gun." He smiled that crooked smile again.

She found herself smiling in return. "Since you won't tell me your name, I'm going to call you X."

"Why X?"

"I'm not certain, exactly. It just seems to fit. I can't put my finger on it..."

"Oh, Scully, you're gonna wanna turn right three streets up, then take your first left, then second right."

*Why did I just call her 'Scully'?*

-Why did he just call me 'Scully'?- "Okay. So who are these friends of yours?"

"You ever heard of 'The Lone Gunmen'?"

Dana furrowed her brow in thought before replying. "No, can't say that I have. Why?"

"These friends of mine are the ones who publish it. It's a kind of newsletter all about government cover-ups, conspiracies, UFO's, aliens, stuff like that."

"Tell me you don't believe in all that."

"I live it, Scully."

"Why are you calling me Scully?"

"Well, I figured you'd punch me if I called you Dana, and I don't know if you're a Miss or a Mrs., and I hate the use of Ms., and Agent Scully just seems too damned formal for the woman who is helping keep me alive."

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?" she smirked. Boy, did she like this man. His mysteriousness only added to the thrill of excitement she felt.

"Most of the time. I have a photographic memory."

"Good Lord. A paranoid, spooky man with an eidetic memory. What have I gotten myself into?"

"Spooky? You think I'm spooky?" he chuckled.

"Yes. Why does that amuse you?"

"That's my nickname. One I don't take kindly too."

"Oh. Sorry. Guess I'm lucky I didn't call you Spooky, huh?"

"I like X better. Thanks. Oh, the Bel-Mar is just up here on the left."

Scully pulled into the gravel parking lot. "This looks like a place where you rent rooms by the hour."

"It is."

She made a face at him. "That's disgusting."

"Yeah, but it's the last place anyone would think of finding an FBI agent and a nutcase, right?"

"You have a point about the FBI agent part. I plead the fifth on the nutcase. I'll go get us the rooms."

"Just don't use your real name. No one ever does at these places."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know about this place." Dana said as she exited the car and headed for the office.

He laughed out loud as he watched her enter and then, only ten minutes later, return.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You."

"I don't like to be laughed at."

"I'm sorry. You're just funny, that's all. You've got a great sense of humor."

"Thank you. I think."

"Why are you frowning?"

"They only have one room left."

"I don't bite."

"How do I know that?"

He sighed. "You don't. You have only my word."

She stared at him for a moment after getting into the driver's seat. "I'll take that."

He smiled, then winced as several cuts on his face cracked open under the strain.

"I'll have to get you cleaned up when we get inside. I've got my med kit in the trunk."

As she pulled the car into the parking space in front of Room 5, he asked, "Med kit? Is that standard FBI issue these days?"

"No. I'm also a medical doctor."

"Really? And an agent? That's an interesting combo."

"Forensic pathology. It's useful in my line of work. The Bureau likes having autopsies done on the inside in certain cases, and there are very few forensic pathologists slash agents on the payroll."

"Makes you rather indispensable, doesn't it?"

"To a degree, yes. Let's get inside."

The two went to the door. Dana stared for a moment at the number 5 plastered on the front of it. 5. Why did that number seem so familiar to her? 5. Hmmm. 5. Room 5. Room 5. No, not a room. An apartment. Apartment 5...is that my apartment? Why don't I know my own apartment number?

"You all right?" X asked softly, laying a hand on her arm.

She shook the feeling off and unlocked the door. "I'm fine."

"Why don't I believe that?" X carefully placed the cup of liquid on the bathroom counter. "If you don't mind, I'd like to clean myself up."

"That's a good idea. Once you've gotten most of the dirt off, I'll take care of your injuries."

He closed the bathroom door, and Dana soon heard the shower running. She sat down on the bed when she realized that what she was doing was not only completely out-of-character for her, but probably very stupid. -What in God's name am I doing in a motel room with an obvious mental case who claims

his opium extract is of partial extraterrestrial origin and can disintegrate things? My father would kill me for acting so irrationally.-

A sudden stab of pain seared across her heart. She didn't understand. It had to do with Ahab. Thinking about him made her want to cry. She felt a dull pain in her chest associated with him, but didn't know why. A terrible sense of loss. But why? He was fine. He was at home with Mom. Why did thinking about him just now make her feel like she'd already lost him?

Dana was startled when X came up behind her and lay a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry. I called your name, but you didn't answer. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, fine. Let's take a look at your wounds." Her eyebrows raised when she saw he wore only a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey, don't blame me, I don't have any clean clothes. Besides, some of my injuries are on my legs."

"No problem. I'll start with your legs, then. While I'm working, do you mind telling me why Krieg was holding you prisoner and how you escaped?"

"That's a fair trade," he replied, seating himself on the one double bed which occupied the room. "Chester Krieg is believed to be involved with members of a Syndicate, or Consortium, of men in high places around the world who operate far above and beyond the limitations of normal law and order. He is indeed an opium dealer, but that is a cover for his real work...ow!"

"Sorry. This will sting. What's his real work?"

"Thanks for the warning," he said sarcastically, drawing a miniature smile from her. "It is my belief that he's been using extract from his opium as part of an experiment sanctioned by the Consortium. Ouch."

"You're such a baby."

"Wonderful bedside manner. No wonder you chose to work on the dead."

She wiped at the gash on his leg a little harder than necessary in response to his quip, for which she received a glare. "Anyway," he continued through clenched teeth, "the experiment involves substances of a chemical nature which cannot be identified as anything found on this planet. I'm not quite sure what the nature of these experiments are, nor what Krieg is trying to accomplish. I went snooping around his house looking for information. He caught me and has kept me locked in an old bomb shelter in his basement for, well, for a long time."

"Where did all the scratches and dirt come from?" Dana asked, barely believing a word he said. She had finished his legs and one arm, and was now working on the other arm. -Nice chest.- she thought absently.

"Well, the guy was a little pissed off at me and beat me up a bit."

"A little? I'm surprised you're still walking."

"Adrenaline rush. I'm about ready to collapse."

"And the dirt?"

"I dug my way out. Took me forever. I can't be sure exactly how long, since I don't even know what day it is."

"It's Tuesday, March 14th. You dug your way out of a bomb shelter?" Dana finished his arm and noticed the intense bruising on his chest and stomach for the first time, as well as the burn marks and cuts. "Jesus, what the hell did he do to you?"

"I told you, he beat me up a little." When he noticed Scully checking out the burns, he added, "And he used his cigarettes on me. And a razor blade."

Her eyes looked into his, full of genuine concern. It touched him deeply. No one had ever had that look in their eyes-not meant for him, anyway. "I'm okay," he whispered, sensing there was more they could say without even speaking.

Regaining her composure, Dana dabbed some cream on the burns and touched up the gashes with iodine, causing X to hiss air in and out of his clenched jaw. "I'll be the judge of that." Then, more softly, "I'm sorry. I don't really mean to hurt you. But I've got to make sure you don't get an infection."

"It's all right. I'm not usually such a pansy. You bring out the best in me."

Then she smiled a real, wide smile, causing him to grin foolishly in return. Her cool hands played across his chest, and he closed his eyes, savoring the contact like he hadn't been touched nicely in ages. Which he hadn't. Every touch he experienced nowadays was anything but kind and pleasant. This was a real treat. Even if she was with the FBI. She was a good person. He could feel it.

Finally her hands found their way to his back, where she continued her ministrations in silence. -Why do I feel so drawn to him? I don't know him. But I feel I do. Why? I'm so confused. I want to do nothing more than put my arms around him and comfort him. He doesn't seem like anyone loves him. I could love him.- Her eyes widened in shock at her own thoughts. What the hell...?

At last she completed his back and sat on the bed next to him. "Turn your face to me." She grimaced when she looked closely at his poor face.

"Guess I wouldn't make it for Playgirl Playmate of the Year tonight, huh?" he joked, eyes half-closed in exhaustion.

She suppressed a smile. "Not by a longshot. This will probably hurt."

"Oh, goody."

Scully gently wiped the ooze from the largest gash, running from his ear to his chin on the left side of his face. She put iodine on him, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain. She then put antibiotic cream on it and cut a long strip of gauze, taping it along the cut carefully. Then she turned her attention to his lower lip. She had no idea what it looked like normally, for it was now swollen and cut open severely, probably from a good right hook to it. She shook her head sadly as her fingers played across his lip, then bit her own lip at the sensation which ran up her arm, down through her body, and right to the center of her womanhood. Just touching that lip made her...well, horny.

She jerked her hand back and forced herself to concentrate on cleaning up the cut lip. She went to get some ice for him to apply to it, hoping he hadn't noticed her reaction.

He'd noticed. And he'd felt it, too. While she was out, he took the towel off and hung it in the bathroom, then slid between the clean sheets of the bed, not wanting to embarrass her any further. She came back with the ice, wrapped it in a washcloth, and sat on the edge of the bed, where he lay with his eyes closed. She thought he might be sleeping.

So she gently applied the cold washcloth to his lip, causing him to flinch and grab her wrist. She gasped in surprise and he opened his eyes, staring into her eyes as they had once before. *God, I want her. If I weren't so beat up...*

-God, I want him. If he weren't so beat up...-

"How do you feel?" she asked softly.

"Like shit. Thank you for helping me. I-I'm sorry to have to put you through this. Then again, you found me."

She smiled as he closed his eyes and let go of her wrist.

"You don't believe me about the liquid, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Very much."

"Then no, not really."

"Try it."

"What?"

"Go into the bathroom. Drop anything into the cup and see what happens. Just don't let the stuff get on you."

"All right. I think I'll do just that. Anything?"

"Yes. Anything at all. Please be careful."

"I will."

Scully left the washcloth over X's swollen lip and went to the bathroom. Certain nothing would happen, she grabbed a bath towel and held one corner over the cup. She slowly lowered it down until the tip of it touched the liquid.

As soon as the two things met, the towel crackled as it began disintegrating quickly upwards. Scully screeched and barely let go of the towel in time for it to completely disappear. "My God!" she exclaimed.

"Now do you believe me?" X called from the bed.

She came into the main part of the hotel room, holding the cup gingerly in her hands. "Yes," she said, her voice trembling, as she carefully placed the cup on the desk.

She sat in the chair, eyeing X's placid form on the bed. "Why are you smirking?"

"Am I?" his smirk broadened into a smile.

"Now you're smiling. Wickedly. Because you proved me wrong."

He opened his eyes and looked at her thoughtfully. "I hadn't actually thought of that. I'm sorry it frightened you. I tried to tell you what it would do. Hey, Scully, you're one of those people who needs proof before they believe in anything, aren't you?"

How had he pegged her so quickly? "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid. I'm a scientist, it's part of my training."

"Yet you're also a religious woman."

"Now how did you figure that out?"

"Your necklace."

She reached up and clasped the gold cross pendant in her hand. "Oh."

"So how do you reconcile your religious convictions with your scientific background? That seems somewhat incompatible to me."

"It's difficult, but faith is faith and science is science."

"Kind of like the separation between church and state, huh?"

She smiled slightly. "Interesting analogy. You should rest."

"I can't go to sleep. I need to keep watch."

"I thought you said we'd be safe here."

"Safer than at your place, but not *completely* safe. No telling if anyone saw us or followed us."

She sighed loudly. "Great. Well, I'll keep the first watch so you can sleep. I'll wake you to take the second watch. Okay?"

He grinned. "Okay. Thanks again."

"Anytime, partner, anytime." Scully frowned as she realized what she'd just said. Partner?

But X just smiled an award-winning, tooth-showing smile. "I've never had a partner before."

"Neither have I. It just slipped out. This is so...strange. Have we ever met before?"

As he drifted off to sleep he replied, "Perhaps in another life..."

Time passed, and soon X's rhythmic breathing told her he was asleep. And so now she sat, contemplating the strange purplish-black concoction in the cup. She sighed again, marveling at what she'd witnessed, trying to figure out exactly what this was.

And then, without warning, the earth began to shake.

-An earthquake? Here? That's next to impossible!-

Scully gripped the sides of the desk as the quake hit, trying to keep her balance. It was a big one. She stared around the room as a ratty old picture fell from a wall. She heard a pop and then hissing as a pipe somewhere broke open and began to leak.

The next events seemed to happen in slow motion for Dana Scully.

Just as the cup of liquid crossed her mind, just as she reached out to pick it up, just as X sat bolt upright in bed, shocked out of his sleep, a particularly large jolt sent Dana's hand flying into the cup. She screamed in terror.

For her hand had inadvertently knocked the cup's contents directly onto X's body.

His eyes went wide and he shrieked in pain as his arm and side popped and crackled as they disintegrated.

Scully didn't stop screaming as, in the blink of an eye, he disappeared.

* * *

><p>Skinner, having taken a quick break for a cup of coffee, never heard her scream.<p>

Mulder, in his drug-induced sleep, didn't hear her either.

Walter checked his watch as he re-entered Room #506. 3:16pm. Noticing nothing unusual, he resumed his position at Scully's side, and opened the book he'd found in her desk at work called `The Secret Garden' about two children who ultimately save each others' lives and souls. He'd thought it quite appropriate. Quietly, he began to read aloud.

* * *

><p>Many hours later, Walter had nodded off in his chair.<p>

Fox slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the bright hospital room. He felt very refreshed and ready to go, and as such was soon on his feet and at Dana's side. The corners of his mouth twitched as he took in his boss' sleeping form.

*I've never seen that man sleep.*

He caressed Dana's face for a moment, then bent down to whisper to her. "I stink, partner." He smiled against her ear. "I'm going to go clean up. I want to look and smell good when you wake up, you know? Then I'll be back. I promise. AD Skinner's here with you, so you call out to him if you need something, okay? He was reading to you, from the looks of it. I'll see you soon."

As he made his way to the bathroom, he noted the time as 5:30pm. His stomach rumbled. He figured he'd hit the cafeteria before sending his boss home for the night.

He shaved and showered, then saw the bag of his clean clothes in the closet. Skinner must have brought them for him that morning. The AD just went up yet another notch in Mulder's estimation. The guy was pretty far up now; indeed, the only other person to ever get up that high before him was Scully. Not bad at all.

Mulder pulled on fresh jeans and a white polo shirt and headed to the cafeteria for a quick meal.

*God, I hate hospital food.*

* * *

><p>Mulder returned to the room half-an-hour later with two cups of coffee, both black. Skinner still napped in the chair. He set the Styrofoam cups on a nearby table and walked up to his boss, silently studying his features. He looked so much softer right now; actually, very little of the man Fox had<p>

come to know so well at work remained in this figure laying so vulnerably below him. The rise and fall of his chest, the frown-free forehead, his glasses having slipped a little down his nose, the book about to fall from his lap.

It was thus that Fox Mulder finally realized that Assistant Director Walter Sergei Skinner was nothing more than a man. Just like him. With the same weaknesses and troubles as any man walking the street. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Like Fox, this man had worries and problems that stretched beyond the realm of most men's comprehension. Things no one except perhaps Fox himself could understand. He marveled at his next thought.

"Sir?" Fox said softly.

That was all it took for Walter's eyes to open. He saw his agent thoughtfully looking at him and wondered what he was thinking.

'I guess I should be grateful he didn't kill me as I slept. Lord knows I've given him plenty of reason to in the past.'

"Sorry. I must have nodded off."

"It's okay, Sir. I've showered and eaten. Oh, here, I brought you some coffee for your ride home."

Walter took the proffered cup gratefully. He didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel. "Why...thank you, Agent Mulder."

"'S nothin'," Mulder replied, sheepishly turning away from his superior. "I don't need my only backup person landing in the hospital too," he tried to joke.

"No, that you don't. I can't say I'd want to be here as a patient myself. I've left off in the middle of Chapter 4 of this book. I found it in Agent Scully's desk back at the Bureau, so I thought she might like it."

"Thank you," Fox said as he took the book from Skinner's hands. "I'm sure she appreciates it."

Skinner stood and stretched a bit, then took a sip of the scalding liquid in his cup. "Ah, yes, good old hospital coffee. That one sip will keep me awake for hours."

Mulder found himself smiling at his boss' attempt at levity. "Sir, before you go..."

"Yes?"

"First of all, thank you for bringing some clothes for me. You didn't have to."

"Are you kidding? I refuse to get a call at 2am telling me to come collect my agent because he's running around the hospital naked. It was more for my sake than yours." Walter replied gruffly, rather embarrassed by all this thanking that was going on.

Fox's smile broadened, then his face became serious.

"What is it, Agent Mulder?"

He just looked at the man he had only recently come to feel he could trust, wondering if he should disclose the events of the morning. In the end, he decided he owed it to him, just in case something similar happened under his watch, if for no other reason. So he did. He showed Skinner where he'd

found the streak of blood and the fresh tear tracks. He showed him how the sheet and Call Button had been displaced. Finally, he lifted Scully's arm gently and showed him the five unmistakable fingerprint bruises.

"And you haven't a clue how these things happened? Not even an X-File-ish guess?" Walter asked as he studied Scully's arm.

"No, Sir. And...the blood on Agent Scully's cheek...Sir, it was my blood."

"What? How do you know that?"

"I had them type it. She's type O, I'm AB-. The blood on her cheek was AB-. The night nurse also said she'd not heard any screaming, and none of the other patients on the floor had complained of a disturbance. But I would swear on J. Edgar Hoover's grave that I heard her scream my name. Sir, it

was like no sound I've heard before. It chilled me to the bone as it woke me. I honestly can't say whether it was a dream I was having or if she really did scream, but I can't see how something so ear-piercing and so...real...could have been a product of my imagination, overworked though it may be."

Walter nodded as he looked back and forth from Scully to Mulder and back again. "That is most definitely...odd. I will be sure to keep a close watch out for anything else unusual when I'm with her. I'll come every morning to relieve you so you can rest."

"Can you leave work like that?"

"I let you do it all the time. I'm the boss, so I'm going to do it. I've got enough personal and sick days to take off for a year, Agent Mulder. Don't you concern yourself with work right now. I want you to try and remember what happened to you during those six missing hours, and I want you to see to it that Agent Scully recovers fully and quickly."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

"Have a good night, Agent Mulder."

"You too, Sir." Mulder replied.

Skinner donned his coat and, coffee cup in hand, strolled out of the room, leaving Mulder alone with his comatose partner and his jumbled thoughts.

* * *

><p>*What happened during those six hours? And why can't I remember?*<p>

For the next few hours, Fox put his mind through torture, desperately trying to recall *anything* that would shed some light on Scully's predicament.

He came up completely empty.

Realizing that any further attempts at recollection on his own would be futile, he picked up 'The Secret Garden' and began reading aloud where Skinner had left off. Mulder found the story absolutely boring. He therefore fell asleep mid-sentence an hour later.

* * *

><p>Wet. Cold. Splashing water. Sliding down, down, but it's dark. Can't see a blasted thing.<p>

-Why do I let them talk me into these damn water slides every time? This one's completely enclosed, for crying out loud!-

Downward she slid, unable to gain purchase enough to even slow herself.

-The end must be coming up soon.-

Goosebumps riddled her body. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth in a grimace, arms folded in an X over her chest.

X. Why is that letter so important? X, X, X, X, X.

A pinpoint of light, growing ever larger. Nearer and nearer.

-Thank God. I'm almost out.-

Closer and closer. Bright sunlight, emptying out into...

SPLASH!

Going down. Opening her eyes, but seeing not the familiar manufactured blues of a pool, only an inky darkness. Mouth opening slightly, arms flailing, legs kicking to propel upwards. Must reach the surface. Didn't take a big enough breath to stay under for long.

-What the hell? Saltwater?-

Her foot is caught in an undertow current, dragging her down further. Can't find the top. Reaching out for anything, finding only handfuls of sand. Her mouth opens as she tries to scream for help, but yet another undertow grabs her leg and keeps her from gaining her bearings.

The searing pain in her lungs. Need oxygen.

-I'm dying. Oh, God, no.-

Reflexively gulping in through her windpipe, finding water instead of air. Where's the goddamned surface?

-Help me! Help me!-

Her body spasms, seizing as it fights for the air it can't find. Blind scratching, clawing, limbs lashing out wildly, trying to find...

Blessed darkness.

* * *

><p>Fox awoke with the very strange feeling that something was wrong. Someone had come in and turned the lights out as he slept, making his current view of the room nothing more than shadows. But Scully lay quietly on the bed, so the half-asleep Fox drifted back off to unconsciousness.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

"Breathe, goddammit!" he yelled as he pounded on the woman's chest. He pinched her nose and opened her mouth, bringing his lips to hers, but not in a kiss. This was a life-saving attempt.

Her lips were blue, her face a ghostly white. She looked dead already.

She was.

Puff, puff, puff into the mouth.

Pump, pump, pump over the heart.

Puff, puff, puff.

Pump, pump, pump.

"Come on, dammit! Breathe! BREATHE!"

Her placed his mouth over hers again, tasting the ocean water on her lips, feeling an icy coldness instead of the usual 98.6 degree-heat of a mouth. He expelled one long breath into her lungs.

As he eased away from her face, her body lurched as she coughed, spitting sea water everywhere. He turned her on her side to prevent choking. Her entire body shook as she hacked the water from her lungs. He smoothed her wet hair out of her face.

"It's all right. You're going to be okay now. Take deep breaths. Slowly, slowly."

-He's here. That's his voice I hear. I love his voice. So calm, so soothing. Keep speaking, please keep speaking. Why does my chest hurt so? Cold, I'm so very cold. God, I'm cold.-

She began to shiver uncontrollably. Several onlookers offered their dry towels, which he eagerly accepted, wrapping them around her and holding her body close to his. "There, there, it's all over. You're fine now. Just relax and breathe."

She felt safe in his arms. Feeling so, she allowed herself to fall into darkness.

The paramedics came, they put her on a stretcher, they carried her toward the ambulance. She awoke and lifted her head enough to see him getting smaller and smaller as he stood watching her go.

He saw her look at him and waved. She smiled weakly. "Who?" she asked of the paramedic nearest her.

"I'm a paramedic, ma'am. My name is Paul."

"No. Him."

"Oh. He saved your life, ma'am. He's the lifeguard on this beach. Said his name's Mulder."

"Mulder," she whispered, a ghost of a smile tracing her lips. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. A lifeguard? That didn't seem quite right. He's supposed to be...something else.

She raised her head again to look at him and gasped in fright, nearly choking herself. For rising behind him from the water was a creature she could liken only to a brontosaurus. She tried to scream out a warning to her savior, but her voice refused to work. As she stared wide-eyed, the creature's head

leaned down, and in one fell swoop it gobbled Mulder the Lifeguard whole.

Then she found her voice at last.

"NOOOO! MUUUULDEEEEEERR!"

* * *

><p>He awoke with a start. The first thing he noticed was that Scully's breathing wasn't quite right. It was faster than before. He jumped up and flicked the light switch. His watch said the time was 3:14am. He rushed to Scully's side and cursed softly.<p>

She was soaking wet from head to toe. The sheet lay crumpled and wet at the foot of the bed. He touched her hand. She felt very cold. Her lips had a bluish tint to them, and a mixture of water and saliva trailed from both corners of her slightly open mouth. He could have sworn she'd screamed his

name again. That that was what had awakened him.

"Dammit! Scully? Scully, can you hear me?" he asked as he hit the Call Button with the open palm of his hand.

*What in God's name is happening here?*

The nurse arrived quickly and exclaimed softly at the sight before her. "Shit!"

First order of business was to dry Scully off and change her bed sheets. Mulder helped Nurse Aimen, and soon Scully's complexion and breathing were back to normal. Aimen tucked the sheet around the patient as Mulder paced, agitated. He couldn't even begin to fathom how she'd come to be soaking wet

*with saltwater, I tasted it on my fingers* while laying in bed.

Once again he rattled off his observances to the nurse, who wrote everything down in Scully's chart.

"This is even stranger than last night," Aimen commented as she turned to go. "Might I suggest, Mr. Mulder, that you try to stay awake until your relief arrives? We really should try to figure out what's going on."

Mulder nodded his agreement, and Aimen took her leave, puzzling over it all, wondering at the strangeness of the situation.

None of it made sense. To her or Mulder.

Fox, somewhat in shock, spent the rest of the dark hours staring intently at his partner's prone figure.

But nothing more happened. He'd sort of expected that.

At 8:30am, Walter Skinner knocked softly on the door of Room #506. He'd spent the last hour going over the events of that morning with Nurse Aimen and Dr. Laurintz.

They were all quite confused, to say the least.

"Agent Mulder," he said softly so as not to startle the distraught man.

"Sir," Mulder's voice was a quiet monotone.

"I spoke with the night-duty nurse and Dr. Laurintz already. I know about this morning," Skinner said as he hung his coat in the closet.

"Why is this happening to her? Even _I_ can't explain this!"

"I don't know."

"The doctor's been in here already. He said her lungs sound as though she almost drowned. I was right here! How could she have almost drowned?"

"Listen, I want to know what's going on here as much as you do. I promise I'll stay awake all day today and watch her very carefully. You need some sleep."

"Nothing will happen today. It happens at 3:14am. Or at least it has, both times."

"Just the same, I'm keeping an eagle eye on Agent Scully. Go to bed, Agent Mulder."

Fox nodded and crawled into bed, but the Sandman refused to pay him a visit. Skinner noticed this, and had a nurse come in to give him a shot of the same stuff he'd had yesterday. Fox put up no fight whatsoever, which worried Walter Skinner. His rogue agent had never been so...complacent.

At least he finally fell asleep.

* * *

><p>It was lonely riding on a Ferris wheel by yourself. Especially when the bucket seats, as most are, were made for two. But Dana had just fought with her now-ex-boyfriend Paul, and had left his apartment in anger, driving aimlessly as she seethed.<p>

She'd caught him red-handed making love to another woman two months ago, and had broken it off right then and there. But Paul had retaliated by spreading vicious lies about her throughout the hospital where they both worked as physicians.

She'd had enough, and tonight had gone to his place to confront him. But he'd just torn her apart limb from limb, causing her to lash out at him. Literlly. She'd punched him square in the jaw before storming out.

-Serves the lying, cheating bastard right.-

Dana sighed as the wheel stopped to let on a teenaged couple, who began necking before the ride even started again. She'd bribed the pimple-faced ride operator to let her stay on for as long as she wanted. She needed the time alone to think.

As her bucket rose upward from the ground, her eyes chanced upon a lanky, dark-haired man who was speaking to the ride attendant. She was struck by a vague notion that he was very familiar to her, but she was certain she didn't recognize him.

He wore a navy blue suit and navy blue trenchcoat. -Funky tie.- His brown hair was neatly swept back from his face, his lips were full. He stooped a little as he stood, giving the appearance of being very relaxed despite his business attire. His hands were jammed into his pants pockets.

He looked up as she passed by, and their eyes locked. Her mouth formed into a small 'o'. He stopped mid-sentence, and they stared at one another until the rise of her bucket made it physically impossible.

On the next pass, the attendant stopped the ride as though it were Dana's turn to disembark. But instead of her getting out, the lanky stranger got in. Without a word, they looked deeply into one another's eyes as the ride began again. Dana knew him...she had to! He was so...familiar...everything about him was comfortable.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied, shyly averting her eyes.

"I'm Mulder," he said, offering her his hand.

"I'm...Mulder? Is that your first name?"

"No, last," he answered as they shook hands.

"Oh," Strange how him giving her his last name instead of his first felt so right. "I'm...Scully."

"First name?" A smile graced his lips.

"No."

"What's fair is fair."

"What-why did you-?"

"I don't know why. I saw you and...I just had to."

"Oh. Okay."

"You sure it's okay?" he asked, taking her hand into his.

She nodded dumbly, trapped once again in the depths of his hazel eyes.

For the next twenty minutes they rode the Ferris wheel around and around, never letting go either of the hand or the eye contact. Words just didn't seem necessary.

Finally, the attendant forced them to leave, saying that the fair was closing in five minutes. Reluctantly, they walked away from the seemingly-magical Ferris wheel. Still holding hands.

"I have to go," he said.

"I know," How did she know?

And suddenly she was in his arms, their lips pressed tightly into one another's, their arms wound around each other's bodies, never wanting to let go. Mulder deepened the kiss, sending Scully's mind reeling.

When they parted, he looked deeply into her large blue eyes. "I can't see you again. It's too dangerous."

She nodded as tears sprang to her eyes.

"But before I go, know this: I will never love another."

Dana gasped in surprise. He kissed her once more and walked away. "Mulder," she called out.

He stopped and turned.

"Ditto." She smiled, as did he.

As he turned to continue on his way, Scully's eye caught something moving behind a concession stand near where he was walking. She peered into the darkness, trying to see what it was.

A man.

A gun.

Pointed at him.

No. NO!

"MULDER!" she yelled, running towards him. "LOOK OUT!"

But it was too late. A shot rang out, the shooter ran into the shadows. Leaving the mysterious man Mulder, a man she'd just met but vowed to love for a lifetime, dead on the ground from a bullet to the face.

Scully couldn't move. She couldn't scream. She couldn't cry. She stood in shock, staring down at this man she felt she'd known forever.

Her mind did the screaming for her. -Mulder. No, no, no, no, no! MULDER! GOD, NO! NOOOOO!-

* * *

><p>Dana's dream ended precisely at 3:14pm. But as far as Walter Skinner was concerned, the entire day passed without incident. Mulder slept, if somewhat fitfully, and Skinner, true to his word, never took his eyes off Agent Scully. Except twice when he had to go to the bathroom. And he made sure to go quickly.<p>

She'd never even flinched.

It was now nearing 6:00pm. He'd been thinking about it all day, and decided to stay here with them tonight. Between him and Mulder, one of them should be able to stay awake. And Skinner was intensely curious as to what _exactly_ was happening to Scully. He knew Mulder's insides were eating him alive with self-torture, which he also wished to bring to an end. Perhaps tonight would be the night they would discover the facts.

Mulder awakened very slowly. Drug-induced sleep seemed to have that effect on him. He'd never slept as much in two weeks as he had these past two days. It felt weird to be rested, but it felt good all the same. Scully would be proud.

Scully.

He jumped off the bed, startling his boss, who jumped out of his chair. "Sorry, Sir. How is she?"

"It's okay. She's the same. Nothing happened. Listen, Agent Mulder, I think I'm going to stay here with you tonight if that's all right. We have a better chance of figuring out what this is all about with two of us here."

To Skinner's surprise, Mulder agreed. "Good idea. I was going to ask you if you'd stay, Sir. I want to have a Dr. Werber come here."

"The regression therapist?"

"Yes," Fox nodded.

"You want him to put you under. So you'll remember what happened to you."

He nodded again.

"Are you sure about this?"

"It's the only way. The only way I know of to make sense of this whole situation."

"Very well."

Fox made the phone call and was pleased that Werber agreed to meet him in Scully's room. Apparently the guy had no problem making a 'house call' for his most intriguing patient. So Mulder decided to shower and put on some clean clothes in preparation for the appointment. He didn't shave. Really, what was the point? Scully wasn't awake to pester him about his chin whiskers today.

Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Hans Werber knocked purposefully on the door to Room #506. Mulder let him in, explaining that he wished to undergo the therapy in that room. He wanted Skinner to hear it all, and he didn't want to leave Scully alone, which meant they all had to stay there. Besides, if he said something Scully recognized, he theorized, it may help to bring her out of her coma.

So Mulder lay on his hospital bed. Dr. Werber pulled a chair over and sat next to the bed. Skinner remained in his chair at Scully's side. He was to watch her for any reactions as the therapy progressed.

* * *

><p>"Agent Mulder," Werber began, "I want you to close your eyes. Relax your body, from head to toe. Just relax and let your mind go blank. Breathe slowly, evenly. Deep breaths. Relax. Good. Listen to my voice. Whenever you feel frightened, you are going to retreat to a safe place where no one will be able to hurt you. You just tell me whenever you feel like going there. Where is your safe place, Agent Mulder?"<p>

Fox's brow wrinkled in thought for a moment, then he replied, "Scully's."

Skinner's eyebrows rose in surprise. But he forced himself to chalk it up to all the time they had spent together over the last six years. It was inevitable that Mulder would have found himself in Scully's apartment on more than one occasion. Funny that was where he chose to feel safe. He decided to think about that later.

"Very well. You will return to Agent Scully's home whenever you feel threatened. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now, Agent Mulder, I want you to think back to three days ago. Where were you and Agent Scully?"

Mulder spoke slowly at first, as though trying to organize his thoughts into words. "We were in Canada. In the forest. We were tracking a lead we had on the government's secret railroad. We were basically alone. Our phones didn't work that deep in. Then a Canadian Mountie found us. He said AD

Skinner had sent him to find Scully. Her brother was trying to reach her. We followed him to the nearest town, where Scully called Bill."

Mulder's voice choked up a bit as his next words came. "I-I've never seen Scully so...upset. Mrs. Scully was in a car accident. She was hurt very badly. Scully was...hurting. She wanted to go to California to be with her mom. So a helicopter came for us."

"Very good, Agent Mulder. Now, can you remember the helicopter ride? Can you recall what happened?"

"She was fighting to keep control. I knew she wanted to break down, but she won't do it in front of me. She thinks she has to stay strong. She doesn't want me to see her as being weak. I was...comforting her as best I could. I think she'd finally started letting her tears go. I remember feeling something wet on my hand. I assumed she was crying, but I didn't want to let her know that I knew. So I pretended not to notice."

"What happened next? Remember, go to Agent Scully's if you become frightened."

"I will. I-it's so-damn. It's fuzzy. I-I can't make it out exactly. Oh, shit! Oh, my God! OH, NO! THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE HERE!"

"Agent Mulder, remain calm. Whatever you're seeing can't hurt you. You're in Agent Scully's home right now."

"Is she there with me?"

"Do you feel safer when she's with you?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"Then yes, she's there with you. You're sitting together at her kitchen table." Dr. Werber fervently hoped Dana Scully had a table in her kitchen. "You're there with her. You're safe. Both of you are. Nothing can hurt you."

"Okay."

The room fell silent. Walter continued to glance between his two agents, enthralled by what Mulder was going through, and keeping an eye on Scully for any sign of movement or some other sort of response.

"Are you ready to tell me what you saw?" Werber asked gently.

"Yes. I'm safe. I can...oh, God...the light. The light! It's just like when they took Sam! No, not again. Not here. Not now. Not Scully, too. No, I can't lose her too! Why? Why us?"

"Where is the light?"

"It's-everywhere. All around us. The pilot just collapsed onto the controls. The helicopter is spinning now. Scully is screaming. I've never heard her scream before. She's screaming and she's clinging to me. Her arms are wrapped around my neck so tightly I can barely breathe. I have to protect her. I can't let them take her from me. Not her, too. So I wrapped my arms around her, to keep her close, to make sure she couldn't be taken."

When Mulder paused, Werber prodded, "What happened next?"

"It's spinning. All I can see is the white light. It's not the same as the light of the ship from Antarctica. It's not the same. There-there's a man. A man in a suit and a trenchcoat. He appears from nowhere. He's standing outside the helicopter. In the sky. He's...he's walking towards us on the air. I don't believe my eyes! How can he do that? Who is he? Scully...she's stopped screaming. I look down at her and she's looking up at me. Her eyes are filled with fear. A terror the likes of which I've never

seen in her eyes. I'm so frightened for her. She's seeing something, I think. She's looking right through me."

* * *

><p>"Mulder, no. No."<p>

"What? Scully, what?" I screamed to be heard over the noise around us.

"Don't die. Please don't die. Don't leave me alone."

"I won't. I won't die, I promise."

"I can't...you can't go, Mulder. Please. Don't leave me. You can't die. Please."

"Scully, I'm not dying. I'm okay. I'm here. Don't you see me?"

She shook her head and began to cry big crocodile tears. "He's killing you. I can see him killing you."

"Who?"

She turned to look at the man who was now standing in the helicopter with us. "Him. He's doing it. I can see it all. Please don't let him kill you. It's...it's my...worst...fear."

I was surprised by her statement. I thought something happening to her mother was her worst fear. It sure seemed like that in Canada when she found out about the accident. But now she was telling me that losing _me_ was her worst fear. I looked into her eyes. "I will never leave you, Scully. I'll

always be here."

"I'm...forgetting. You. Forgetting you, Mulder. Forgetting...us. Forgetting it all. Who we are. Who I am. Who you are. He's killing you. Over and over again. You won't live, no matter what I do. Mulder, promise me you'll stay alive. Don't forget me. I can...hardly remember now."

With that, the man came up to us. He reached out his hand...he took her from me. He ripped her from my arms, I-I couldn't-

* * *

><p>"NOOO!" Fox screamed, causing Skinner to jump up from his chair and rush to his bed. "NO! SCULLY! COME BACK!" he kept screaming.<p>

Walter was having a fit. He didn't know what to do. "Dr. Werber, can't you do something?"

"Agent Mulder, remember Scully's. You're safe there. You're there now. No one can hurt you. Nobody can take Agent Scully. She's there with you in her kitchen. You're talking and laughing. No man has taken her."

Fox reached a hand out to grope at the air, as though searching for something. Scully, maybe. A feeling of sadness washed over Walter, and without thinking, he grasped the agent's hand.

Mulder frowned. "Who is this? Who is here in Scully's kitchen with us?"

"It's Walter Skinner, Agent Mulder."

"Are you here to protect us?"

Walter briefly considered the profundity of that question. "Yes, Agent Mulder. I am here to help you and Agent Scully. To protect you."

Mulder smiled. "I knew you'd come through for us. I knew you weren't as rotten as you liked to seem."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Skinner cracked a small smile.

Dr. Werber continued. "Agent Mulder, what happened after the man took Agent Scully from you?" When Mulder's body tensed, Skinner gripped his hand tighter and lay his other hand on the younger man's shoulder. Visibly, he relaxed.

"He took her. She was crying. He walked back out into the air. I felt paralyzed. Just like when they took Sammy from me. I couldn't move. I could only watch. Then he walked away with her, and..."

"And what?"

"And the next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor of the helicopter. Scully was in my arms, laying next to me. The pilot was shouting into the radio. He said we were over Dulles. I tried to wake Scully, but I couldn't. She wouldn't wake up no matter what I did. So I told the pilot to take us to the hospital."

"And you're certain you don't remember anything between the time the man walked away with Agent Scully and the time you woke up on the helicopter floor?"

"Yes. That's what I'm telling you."

"Very good, Agent Mulder. Now, I'm going to count from 1 to 10. When I reach the number 10, you will awaken, fully refreshed. You will only remember the things you are comfortable remembering. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10. You can wake up now."

Fox sat bolt upright in the bed. It took him a few minutes to realize that his boss was holding his hand.

When he did, he glanced up at AD Skinner, surprised to find him looking so concerned. So-fatherly. He dealt with the situation in the only way he knew how.

"Does this mean we're engaged, Sir?"

Walter jerked his hand away, a crimson flush working its way up from his neck. "My apologies, Agent Mulder."

"Don't worry. I won't sue you for sexual harassment. This time."

Embarrassed, Skinner returned to Scully's bedside, noting she looked exactly the same as before Mulder had undergone the therapy. "I don't believe your-session had any effect on Agent Scully."

"I remember it now. Thanks again, Dr. Werber."

"Right. I'll be going now. Do not hesitate to call again if my services are needed."

"I won't," Fox rose from the bed and shook the man's hand, then Werber left.

"Agent Mulder, do you believe that extraterrestrials had something to do with all this?"

"That would be my first guess, although the light wasn't the same as in Antarctica. It was more like when Sam was taken."

After a moment's pause, Fox continued. "Besides, the physical manifestations of what's going on in Scully's mind don't seem to fit the MO of the aliens we know and love. And that man, the one who took Scully from me, seemed _very_ human. However, I can't explain how it is he was walking on air."

"Perhaps someone _wants_ you to believe aliens are involved."

"A distinct possibility, especially given the track record of our mutual enemies. But this still doesn't tell us what's really happening to Scully."

"Agent Mulder, can you remember enough about the man for us to get a composite?"

"Yes. Photographic memory, remember?"

"Right. I'll get Tennison over here immediately. If we can identify him, it may help."

"All right."

Mulder pulled the chair Werber had been using to the side of the bed opposite Skinner's chair. He grasped her hand and spoke softly as Skinner called the Bureau.

"Hey, Scully. Did you hear what I told Dr. Werber about what happened to us? Do you remember it? I need you on this, Scully. As always. I can't figure this out. Who was the man who took you? What did he do to you? Why are you still in a coma? God, Scully, you gotta help me out here. Please wake up. Please."

* * *

><p>"All in good time, Fox. There are still two more nights to make it through. Will you and Walter pass? I know Dana will. She has the strength necessary, and she is becoming used to her dreams. I think you men will do well. Good luck to all three of you. You will need it."<p>

`Paul Davidson' continued watching them through the window in the door, reading their thoughts. He allowed a smile to creep across his face before he turned and walked away.

"Trust no one, Fox. Unless he's an angel."


	4. Chapter 4

-Why must this happen? Now there is nothing. Only darkness. I have dreamed four times. It must mean something, but what? It's as though I've glimpsed myself living four separate lives, still as myself, but a different me. And Mulder is a different Mulder. Always Fox Mulder, but not the one I know. And both times he died. Why?

While I'm in the dream, I don't know Mulder and myself as we are now. But always I _do_ know him in a metaphysical sort of way. As bizarre as my dreams are, he is, so far, the one constant. The tie which binds us together, even in a state of being where I don't know him as I truly do, is inconceivable, yet it fills my soul with awe, wonder and the purest of loves. I think I'm beginning to come to terms with the depth of feeling I harbor for my partner. Feelings I have long known to exist, yet have categorically denounced.

Because I'm afraid. I couldn't bear to lose what we share now, but what if a more fulfilling relationship is standing in the wings, just waiting for one of us or the other to take that first baby step? The risks are so great to both of us as separate entities, and to the two of us as a single unit. For that is what we are. We are halves of a greater whole. I cannot live without him. I already know that. Then why must I endure these dreams where I see him dying in front of me? I have nothing to do in between the dreams but think.

This is unfortunate, for the more I think, the fewer reasons I can find not to explore a deeper relationship with this man who already exists within me, permeating each and every cell in my body, filling all voids in my life as only he can. But I don't understand why the periods between the dreams are so caliginous. Why I'm so alone. Where is he that he has not come for me? When I've before been unconscious, I could always hear him outside of me, seeming ever so far away. Yet I always knew he was there. This time, I don't know. I cannot sense anything outside of myself. This scares me. Has our connection been broken? For the only reason I would not feel him is if he were truly dead.

The thought panics me to no end, but I can do nothing except wait. Wait for the next dream, knowing that I will not be aware of my true identity, nor his. Knowing that I will, yet again, watch him perish. Knowing I shall feel that agony-that utter anguish incomprehensible to any save those who have borne witness to the expiration of the only soul they have ever truly loved. How will I survive it? He has always been my strength. Without him, I fear I shall fail.-

* * *

><p>Tennison had come and gone. They'd done a very good job of transferring Mulder's memory of the man who took Scully to paper. Walter ordered the young agent to send out an APB on the nameless man, telling everyone he was wanted for questioning in the abduction of an FBI agent.<p>

After he'd left, Fox and Walter kept silent vigil at either side of Dana's bed, completely unaware of the struggle her mind was going through. Finally, 3:00am rolled around. The two men tensed visibly in anticipation of what might happen this time. They stared into one another's eyes over Scully's slumbering body, silently offering strength.

"Sir-"

Walter held up his hand to silence Mulder. "Save it, Agent Mulder. This is the least I can do. For both of you."

Mulder nodded his head in silent acknowledgment of what Skinner _hadn't_ verbalized. His boss never ceased to amaze him, especially of late. He was actually starting to like the guy. Go figure.

Seconds passed into minutes. Then Mulder thought he felt Scully move ever-so-slightly underneath his hand. "Scully?" he whispered, drawing Walter's eyes upon himself.

"What is it, Agent Mulder?"

"I-I thought I felt her move. Just a little." he replied. He squeezed her hand tighter and leaned over so that his forehead was touching her right temple. "Scully, if you can hear me, please come back to me. Please wake up. We're here-"

Fox's words ended abruptly, and Skinner jumped to his feet to see what had happened.

For along with the stoppage of speech, Mulder's body had gone rigid, then relaxed, almost imperceptibly. But Walter had noticed. "Agent Mulder?" he said, going around the bed to stand near the man. He stared, incredulous at the sight before him.

Agent Fox Mulder looked like he'd fallen asleep.

"Agent Mulder?" Skinner shook the man gently by his shoulder. "Mulder? Mulder, wake up."

But Fox didn't move a muscle. There was no response from him on any level.

So Skinner placed both hands firmly on the agent's two shoulders and pulled him gently away from Scully's body.

And Mulder and Scully, at the same time, began to choke, as though being strangled. They rasped and coughed and gasped for air.

"What the hell?" Walter exclaimed. What was going on? "MULDER! SCULLY!" he barked, trying to get them to wake up.

He noticed their lips were turning blue and their bodies were jerking a little as though they were dying.

Dying. They'd started choking for air when he'd pulled Mulder away. Not quite comprehending his reasoning, Skinner shoved Mulder back down so that his forehead was once again touching Scully's right temple, but they still seemed to be dying. So he took Mulder's right hand and Scully's right hand and placed them palm-to-palm, intertwining their fingers for them.

And just like that, they were both breathing normally once more.

'What in the name of all that's holy is going on here?'

Skinner pressed the Call Button as he looked at his watch.

Damned if it wasn't 3:14am on the dot.

* * *

><p>Poor Nurse Aimen was now more confused than ever. And Walter was embarrassed as hell having to tell her what he'd witnessed. For whatever the reason, he was convinced that if his agents were physically separated, they would surely die. So he and the nurse pulled Mulder's hospital bed over to the side of the bed on which he was seated. They lowered the left-side bars. Aimen held Fox and Dana's heads and hands together as Walter slowly and carefully maneuvered Mulder into a laying-down position on his own bed, pushing that bed flush with Scully's bed in the process.<p>

Then the two worked to make the sleeping couple as comfortable as possible. Aimen removed Mulder's jeans and shoes and covered him with a sheet. They propped pillows under Fox and Dana's heads in such a way as to insure they'd always be touching. Walter even went so far as to wrap a towel from the bathroom around their hands to prevent them from unlocking.

He knew he was acting crazily, but he didn't care. He was all they had now. He was the only one left to watch over them, the only one they both trusted. At least, he thought so. He knew the whole story, and he knew what had been happening, and now it was all up to him.

And he didn't have a clue what the hell to do. He totally didn't understand. He assumed Mulder was with Scully now, wherever that was. He hoped fervently that somehow Mulder could find her and bring her back.

As Nurse Aimen sat in a nearby chair, writing everything down into Scully's chart, a sharp pain stabbed through Walter's body from head to toe. Pain caused by a sudden fear.

'Dear God. What if they never wake up?'

* * *

><p>*Where am I? Hello?*<p>

-Hello?-

*Scully?*

-It's you! You're here!-

*Yes, I'm here. Where's here?*

-In the darkness. It's always dark between the dreams.-

*Dreams? You've been dreaming?*

-Yes. I've had four dreams so far. You...you are in them all.-

*Scully, why won't you wake up?*

-I am awake.-

*No, you're in a coma.*

-What? A coma? Is that why it's so dark?-

*Don't you remember?*

-I remember very little. In fact, I don't remember you very well. What's your name? I keep forgetting.-

*Scully, it's me, Mulder. You know me, Scully-your partner, Fox Mulder.*

-Partner?-

*Yes, we're Special Agents in the FBI. We've been partners for six years.*

-I can't recall much of the past ten years of my life, Mulder. I only know that I recognize you, even when I forget your name. I know your face, your voice, your heart. You are the constant in my dreams. That and...-

*And what?*

-And the fact that in every dream...you die. I fall in love with you, I find you, and then you die.-

*Love...love? Me?*

-Yes. It's the one thing I cling to in the darkness. My love for you, even though most times you are a nameless stranger to me.-

*You love me?*

-Yes, and you love me.-

*In your dreams or for real?*

-My dreams _are_ real, Mulder. They are my life. Lives. I have hypothesized that each dream is a glimpse of how my life might be if it were different. If both our lives were different. While I'm dreaming, I don't know that it's a dream. But when it's over, when you die, I recall it vividly, and then I know it was a dream. Except I always seem to forget your name.-

*And I die every time?*

-Yes.-

Scully sounded like she was crying now, though Mulder couldn't describe it as tears, just more of the way her thoughts felt. How her thoughts felt. _Now that's a weird concept._

-I can't bear it any longer. Each time, it hurts so much. Each time I wish I were dying with you. Yet I can do nothing to prevent your death. And so I know that when I dream again, I must once more endure losing you.-

*God, I'm so sorry, Scully. There's _got_ to be a way out of this. There-*

Mulder didn't get the chance to finish that thought, for he and Scully were suddenly thrust into another dream.

* * *

><p>"Yeah, right." she laughed. "Like you could ever beat me. Don't'cha know? I'm the champ."<p>

"That's only because you haven't seen me play yet."

His self-assurance galled her. Who did this creep think he was? She turned as the man sitting at a table behind her spoke.

"I'll bet you $100 he wins." the deep voice said.

Dana stared at him. "Do I know you?" she asked harshly.

He shook his head slowly. "And you don't need to. I'll up the ante. $200, take it or leave it."

She peered across the table at the cocky man who was so sure he could beat her. The smoky haze of the bar hid the finer details of his face, but he seemed somehow...familiar to her. Then she turned to look back at the balding man who had now risen to his feet. A niggling feeling in the back of her mind told her she should know him, too.

"Well?" he boomed.

"All right, mister. You got yourself a bet." she said, holding her hand out.

He shook her hand, then leaned against the wall to watch.

"You break." she said to the mysterious stranger who had the nerve to challenge _her_.

He nodded and lined up for a shot. On his first break, he sank three balls, all stripes. Then a fourth, then a fifth. Finally, he missed.

This was the only chance Dana Scully would need. Smoothly she dropped one, two, three, four, five balls into their pockets. The passive faces of the challenger and the gambler told nothing of their thoughts, but she knew she had them both beat, and smiled smugly at the thought. Just as she lined up for her next shot, the back door of the bar crashed open amidst much yelling and cursing.

"Where the fuck is he?" a voice hollered.

No-Name #1 and Dana stared at the drunken man who barged into the bar, a sawed-off shotgun in his hand. He looked at the patrons each in turn before his eyes rested upon No-Name #2. He leered as he raised the gun to his eye, sighting the man bringing his index finger to the trigger.

"I finally found ya, didn't I, Wally?" the gun-toting man drawled.

"Paul, it doesn't have to be this way. Just put the gun down and we'll talk."

Suddenly No-Name #1 whipped a gun from inside his black leather jacket and pointed it at Paul. "Get down!" he ordered he yelled, glancing briefly at his pool opponent.

Dana complied quite willingly, dropping to her belly in a millisecond.

"Put the gun down." he said to the gunman. "I'm an FBI agent."

-FBI agent? What's he here for, a sting?-

No-Name #2's face remained like stone. He seemed to have no fear whatsoever.

But he should have.

The next few seconds passed too quickly to even register in Dana's brain, but she heard the first shot, a scream of pain, a second shot, much cursing and screaming, and then all hell broke loose. When she looked up, she saw that No-Name #2 was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, a wound the size of a

grapefruit gaping at her from his stomach. When she looked to her left, she saw the gunman had also been shot, but in the chest, and was dead on the spot.

The FBI agent was instantly at No-Name's side. "You'll be okay." he was saying softly, pressing his hand over the open wound.

"No...gig's...up, Mul-derrrr." the man slurred.

"Sir, don't...please..."

"I...can't..."

And then he was gone.

Dana had to hold her hands over her ears as the man called Mulder howled like a beast from the wild. "NOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

><p>Walter had taken a short bathroom break, and had just finished washing his hands when he heard the scream. Mulder's scream. His hair stood on end at the sound of it. He'd never, ever heard Mulder scream. Ever. He rushed back out into the hospital room to find that Mulder and Scully's heads were<p>

no longer together. They were both gasping for air, and Scully's lips had already begun turning blue.

He rushed over to them and placed Mulder's forehead against his partner's temple. Immediately, their breathing returned to normal and they looked once more like peacefully sleeping cherubs. It was then that Walter glanced down and saw it on Mulder's hand.

Blood. His hand and the sheet beneath it were soaked with it. Walter pressed the Call Button as he examined Mulder's hand. He could find no evidence of any wound which would cause such profuse bleeding. As he waited for a nurse, he checked his watch. 3:17pm. That would mean-

"Mulder screamed approximately three minutes ago." Skinner mused. "3:14pm."

* * *

><p>*Whoa, what the hell-?*<p>

-Did you know that man? No-Name #2?-

*What? Who?*

-The man you called Sir. The one who bet me $200 that you could beat me.-

*Yes. Yes, I knew him. You know him, too, Scully.*

-I do?-

*Yes, he's our boss at the FBI.*

-What's his name again?-

*Skinner. Walter Skinner. You've known him for years.*

-And you're-

Mulder felt like crying. His Scully couldn't even remember his name. *Mulder. I'm Mulder.*

* * *

><p>Walter had told the head nurse everything he could, which was almost nothing. As they had with the blood on Scully's cheek, they took samples of the blood on Mulder's hand to get it typed. With some difficulty, three nurses, with Walter's help, changed the sheets under the two comatose agents, then Walter left the room to grab a bite to eat so the orderlies could give them sponge baths. Whatever had happened to them had caused them to sweat profusely, and the nurses feared the appearance of bed sores if they weren't cleansed immediately. They all knew that Mulder and Scully's heads and hands had to remain together at all costs, so Walter felt comfortable leaving them alone for a few minutes.<p>

He rubbed his hand on his smooth forehead, trying to understand what was happening. The doctors were baffled. He was baffled. Was there no one who could help them? No one who could bring his agents back? He sat down at a table with his sandwich and pasta salad. He'd taken two bites when he looked up towards the entrance to the cafeteria.

He almost choked on his mouthful of food.

There, standing in the doorway, looking straight at him, was the man from Mulder's sketch. The man he said had abducted Scully from the helicopter. The man turned and walked quickly away as soon as they made eye contact. Walter leapt out of his seat and ran full blast after him.

"Stop! FBI!" Walter yelled as he chased the man through the hospital Lobby.

But he didn't stop. He exited through the revolving door and continued on his way, with Walter hot on his heels.

"I said STOP!" he bellowed.

For whatever reason, the man stopped in the middle of the parking lot, turning to face the large man who barely kept himself from slamming into him.

Walter grabbed the man's suit jacket lapels and shook him. Hard. "Who the hell are you and what did you do to my agents?" he growled.

The man smiled. "If you would be so kind as to let go of me, I will try to help you." His voice was sweet as honey, much to Skinner's distaste.

"How do I know you won't run?"

"I've no reason to run. If I want to get away from you, I can do it even though you're holding me. Mr. Skinner, please release me."

"How do you know my name?" Walter asked in surprise as he let go of the man's suit jacket.

"Let us sit." the man said, indicating a bench in the distance.

"I don't have time for this! I have to get back to my agents!"

"They are all right for now, Mr. Skinner. You have time."

Skinner watched as the man headed toward the bench, then followed him reluctantly. He did NOT like being toyed with. 'I should be used to it by now, though.' he thought as CSM crossed his mind. He seated himself next to the stranger. "Okay, who are you and what is going on with my agents?" Skinner demanded.

* * *

><p>"You may call me Paul." The man offered his hand, which Skinner took hesitantly. "I mean neither you nor Fox and Dana any harm."<p>

"Are you in any way related to the Syndicate?"

Paul chuckled. "Heavens, no. I am not of this world, Mr. Skinner."

"What are you trying to say, that you're an alien?" Walter asked in disbelief. Boy, Mulder would LOVE that.

"No, not exactly. I'm what you might call an angel. However, not the type of angel humans usually think of. I am neither of what you call Heaven, nor am I of what you would call Hell. I am-think of me as a rogue."

"Whatever or whoever you are, what are you doing to my agents and why?"

"I must apologize for the fright you feel. I am simply fulfilling orders."

"Orders? Who ordered you to torture Agents Mulder and Scully in such a way?"

"It is torture, yes. However, the dreams they are having are necessary processes."

"Tell me exactly what's happening."

Paul sighed. "I will try to explain, although you may not comprehend."

Skinner nodded, watching the man intently. He had no reason to disbelieve Paul-but he had no reason to believe him either.

"Many millenia ago, and your human Bible tells this story, the angel Lucifer fell to the depths of Hell. Many legions of those who supported him followed in his wake. I am one of those original followers. However, after a time, many of us became discontent and wished to part from our leader. We therefore deserted Hell and Lucifer in the hopes of being readmitted to Heaven. But it was not to be. Thus having been shunned by Heaven and hunted by Lucifer, we had little choice but to scatter ourselves among humans to save ourselves."

'Okay, this is a crock of crap.-'

"Mr. Skinner, do not be so quick to doubt me." Paul smiled at his companion's surprised face. "Yes, I can read your thoughts." he answered the unasked question. "Our leader is called Coquin, and from time to time he visits each of us in turn, giving us orders. Our goals are to assist humans in whatever ways we can, but due to our former status as angels of Hell, we are unable to directly perform good deeds. We must therefore bring about acts of kindness through seemingly distasteful, torturous acts. That is why your friends seem to suffer. And in actuality, their dreams are not pleasant. In each of Dana's dreams prior to Fox joining her, she experienced what her life would be like were she a different person. And she had to experience Fox dying over and over again."

"What? Why?"

"I shall explain. Since Fox has joined her, they have dreamed but once. This time, it was you who died in their dream."

"Me?"

Paul nodded. "You see, Fox Mulder loves Dana Scully. He is ready to take their relationship to the next level. Dana, however, is far too cautious to take any risks where her partner is concerned."

"Ahh-so you have been forcing her to witness his death repeatedly to make her understand that she has to act on her feelings."

The angel smiled. "Yes. Now you begin to understand."

"But I don't understand. Why are they watching me die now?"

"It is very simple. You are meant to be a father figure to them, for lack of a more appropriate term. They do trust you more than they trust most others, but still they are much too careful. They do not wish to allow themselves to trust you implicitly as they trust one another. But they must do so, in order for all three of you to survive."

"Are you telling me that our survival depends on their trust of me?"

"Yes, that and on their love for one another and for you."

"Excuse me, love for me?"

"You will not die, Walter Skinner. You will not need to force Fox to kill you. Indeed, if they freely admit their mutual love to one another, and if the three of you share the necessary implicit trust, you will all survive to usher in the new era on Earth."

"New era? What are you talking about?"

"I may not tell you more. There will be one more dream."

"Will I die again?"

For some reason, Walter no longer doubted Paul's story. He'd never be able to explain it were anyone to ask, but he believed every single solitary word the man spoke.

"I cannot say. The dreams are borne of the subconscious of those who participate in them. I literally have no control over their content, merely over certain aspects of the dream's course. But now you must go to them."

Walter jumped to his feet. "Are they in danger?"

"No, they are safe. But you must join them for this. You must experience it with them. Dana, of necessity, had to experience many dreams. Her mind was the most difficult to change. Fox, like you, needs little impetus, which is why there shall be only two dreams for him and one for you."

"Must I watch them die?"

"You will discover what is to happen."

"And after this dream we'll all be okay?"

Paul nodded. "You must do to Dana what Fox has done." Off Walter's questioning gaze, he added, "The head, the hand."

Walter nodded.

"You will not remember me, nor will any of you recall your dreams. But the resulting feelings and thoughts will be with you always, you simply will not understand from whence they came. Go, my friend."

Walter stared after Paul as slowly he walked toward a group of nearby trees. He blinked his eyes only once, but when they'd reopened, Paul was nowhere to be seen. "I'll be damned." he swore softly as he trotted back into the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

'What do I do? If I place my head and hand in those positions, will I, too, become comatose? Will I join Mulder and Scully in their dream world? Is this some sort of trick to get rid of all three of us? What if we never awaken? How can I possibly believe everything he said? Look at them, lying there together. Could all this be happening just because these rogue angels wanted Mulder and Scully to have a sexual relationship? And what about me? Them loving me? How is that possible? Why is it necessary?'

Skinner stood and watched his agents for a long time. He checked his watched, surprised at the lateness of the hour. It was 1:30am already. He sighed. No matter what, he wanted to help them. He owed them that much. And if this really was a trick to put all of them out of commission...well, at least Walter would be _with_ his agents.

He hoped.

So he took his shoes and glasses off and pushed both Mulder and Scully over to make room for himself. He lay down next to the petite redhead. "If this doesn't work...if this is the wrong decision...please forgive me." he said aloud. Then he took Scully's free hand in his own, tying their hands together with a towel. Slowly he moved his forehead closer to Scully's temple until at last their skin touched.

* * *

><p>'Hello? Where the devil am I?'<p>

*Hello? Who's there?*

-Someone else has joined us.-

'Mulder? Scully? Is that you?'

*Are you talking to us?*

'Mulder! It _is_ you! Paul was right!'

-Who's Paul? And who are you?-

'Scully! It's me, Skinner. Paul is the man who abducted you in the helicopter.'

-What helicopter?-

*Skinner? Are we supposed to know you?*

'Of course you are! I'm your superior for Christ's sake!'

-Yes. Once more. I wish we could remember.-

'Wait, what are you two talking about. You don't know who you are?'

*No.*

-We never remember. I have been here longer than he.-

'You're Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. You're partners with the FBI. The X-Files division. I'm your boss. I'm Walter Skinner. Please, please tell me you remember. I have some important information.'

-I'm sorry, I don't remember you. What information?-

'You must both listen to me very carefully. You are destined to be together, in a relationship which is physical as well as emotional. We're going to dream together one more time, all three of us. When we come out of these comas, we're not going to remember exactly what happened, but the impressions and the emotions will stay with us.'

*What are you talking about? You're making no sense.*

-You're Walter? As in Wally?-

'Well...hardly anyone calls me Wally. Only my old armed forces buddies.'

'Yes, so I was told.'

-But now you have joined us here in the darkness.-

'Yes. I came here freely. I was told it was necessary in order to end all this.'

-What will happen now?-

'I'm not certain. But we must be prepared. We should-'

Walter's thought was cut off midway as suddenly the three of them became part of one last dream world.

* * *

><p>Carefree. Happy. The wind flowing through her hair made Dana giddy. She laughed out loud, drawing amused glances from her companions.<p>

"Enjoying yourself?" Fox called out.

Her response was to laugh again.

Walter found himself laughing as well. 'I haven't laughed in years.'

-Life has never been this good!-

*She is so beautiful when she laughs. When she's happy. She's never happy. Not like this.*

'I wish I could keep them this happy.'

-I wish I was always this happy.-

The three riders galloped along on their three snow-white horses. All around was a field of grass, rippling in the breeze like waves lapping upon the shore. It stretched as far as the eye could see, going on forever and ever.

Suddenly there appeared in front of them a sparkling river, rushing along its merry way. They slowed, and the horses stopped to drink. The three disembarked and gathered together in a small circle, all faces bearing smiles.

A rare sight indeed.

"What a beautiful day!" Scully exclaimed, taking a deep breath. The air was so fresh, the sun so warm, the breeze caressing her red locks. She felt as though she could fly.

Walter watched Fox as Fox looked at Dana. The tenderness, the love so obvious in his eyes. Walter had never seen him look at her quite like that. It made him feel alive to see this unabashed caring.

Dana turned her face to Fox's and her smile grew wider. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too," Fox replied, his own mouth curving upwards 'til he thought his face might split in half.

"Hey, I'm feeling a little like the third wheel here," Walter broke in.

Dana threw herself at him for a big bear hug. "Not to worry, Walter. We love you, too," she giggled.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "I'm so glad we took that step," he said to them both.

"I am too," Fox replied, placing his hand on Walter's shoulder as Dana backed out of his embrace. "I never thought I'd know what it was like to have a true friend."

"Hey!" Dana slapped Fox's chest.

"Well, you know, I meant a male friend."

They all laughed. Then their faces became serious. Dana finally voiced what each of them was thinking. "It's too bad the step we had to take to find out what we were missing was death."

The men nodded in agreement. "Yes," Walter agreed sadly. "If only we hadn't been so damned stubborn in life."

Fox put his arm around Dana and kissed her cheek. "How I ever went one single minute without telling you I love you I'll never understand."

"Ditto," she smiled, kissing him softly on the lips.

Walter's horse came over and nudged him gently. "What's the matter, Peg?" he asked, rubbing the horse's nose. Peg neighed softly. "Ready to ride some more, girl?"

"Yes, let's keep going. Let's see where we end up." Dana smiled, giving Fox one last squeeze before mounting her steed. "You ready, Lace?" The horse tossed her head in response.

Fox's horse neighed his protest at being left out.

"Looks like Slate is feeling a bit jealous," Walter remarked as he rode over to his companions.

Fox laughed. "Calm down, old boy. We're going, we're going." Slate reared up on his hind feet and off they went as the sun sank low, casting brilliant golds, oranges and reds everywhere the eye could see.

Dana's brow furrowed in thought. "We don't have to die to live this way," she said suddenly.

All three came to a stop as Fox and Walter stared at her.

"What do you mean?" Fox asked.

"Well...I can't explain it, really. What if...what if we're not really dead?"

"Of course we're dead. What would Skinner, Mulder and Scully, FBI agents, be doing out here in a field riding horses?" Walter asked.

"Wait, I think I know what you're getting at," Fox interrupted. "We may be in some sort of suspended state, hanging somewhere between life and death."

"Dreams. Dreaming. We're dreaming," Dana whispered, staring blankly in front of her.

"Dreaming?" Walter raised his eyebrows. Then a look of recognition swept across his face. "Oh...God...oh, my God..."

"What? Dream—oh," Fox stuttered as he, too, began to remember.

"My God. We're _not_ dead," Dana gasped as she slid off Lace.

Fox and Walter dismounted as well. Deeply lost in thought, the three crowded together, like a small triangle forming to block out the world.

-The bar. He was shot.-

*The blood on her cheek. My blood. The bruises on her arm.*

-The opium extract. I dissolved him.-

Mulder and Scully stared into one another's eyes.

-The water. I drowned. He saved my life. That...creature...ate him.-

*She was soaking wet.*

-The ferris wheel. He was shot. Again.-

'I met Paul. An angel. He...he's doing this to us...I joined them here...'

"He's the one. He's doing this on purpose." Walter spoke aloud.

Dana and Fox turned their faces to him. "What?" they asked in unison.

Everything came flooding back to Walter's mind, and he spilled everything he knew to the two who stood before him.

When he finally finished, Dana, regaining the more logical part of her brain, said, "But that doesn't make sense."

"Why not?" Fox asked.

"If what you've told us is really what's been happening, if this hell-angel-turned-do-gooder is behind all this, then something's out of whack."

"How so?" Walter asked.

"Well, he can only help us by hurting us. Yet here we are, standing in a beautiful field of grass on a beautiful, clear night, with three perfect white horses as steeds. We're laughing, we're having fun...this doesn't seem torturous to me. It's nothing like the rest of the dreams have been."

"Then...that must mean something's going to happen. Something bad." Fox said, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

The three stood their ground, looking furtively about them, wondering what was going to transpire. Fox was right, and they all knew it. The question was, what would it be?

Many hours passed, and slowly but surely, the three dropped to the ground and fell asleep. Dana's head lay in Fox's lap, and Walter's and Fox's backs were up against each other. The men snored softly, air passed noiselessly in and out of Dana's mouth.

They didn't notice that far away on the horizon, something began to obscure the bright, twinkling stars from view. Minutes ticked by, and the something inched ever closer. Then a light could be seen. A flickering light. Soon the light covered all horizons, growing ever more fierce in intensity, and the stuff which had obscured only a few stars before now blacked them out completely.

The stuff was smoke.

The light was fire.

A crackling, roaring noise woke Fox first. He blinked his eyes open and

yawned. He couldn't identify quite what it was he was hearing, so he looked up.

And froze.

Fire.

They were surrounded by fire.

Their horses were nowhere to be seen. Everywhere he looked there was fire, leaping up towards the heavens, flames shooting 8 and 10 feet into the air. To the left. To the right. In front of him. Behind him. He tried to speak, to warn his love and his friend, but no sound would emerge from him.

He was terrified.

But soon the noise of the approaching fire woke Walter. Seconds later, Dana came to life as well.

"Jesus Christ!" Walter exclaimed, hopping to his feet. When he did so, Fox's stiff body fell backwards onto the grass. He was paralyzed. "Mulder? Mulder! FOX!" Walter yelled, kneeling next to him.

"Fox!" Dana screamed, scrambling to her partner's side. "Oh, God, he's in shock."

"From what?"

"Sir, he's scared to death of fire. Nothing petrifies him as fire does."

"Can we snap him out of it? We need to get out of here!"

Dana looked all around them. "I...I don't think we can."

"What, snap him out of it?"

"No. Get out of here. Sir, look. We're surrounded by it."

Walter looked in every direction. She was right. There was no way out. They were trapped. And it was quite apparent that the fire was inching ever closer. "I can't believe this. He's going to kill us all this time."

Dana's eyes widened as she cradled Fox in her arms, rocking him to and fro. If she was going to burn to death, she was going holding on to the man she loved more than anything else in the whole world.

Walter seated himself next to his two most difficult agents...his two best friends...and wrapped his arms around both of them, holding them closely. If he was going to burn to death, he was going to do everything in his power to protect them as he died.

Very little registered in Fox's brain except that he knew he was in Dana's arms. He could feel her love, feel her touch. He also sensed Walter's presence. Huddled together as they were, he was certain death was imminent. If he had to die by the hand of his worst nightmare, at least he would go with the woman he loved more than anything else in the whole world. And the man who'd become more of a father figure to him than his own father ever could have been.

The flames drew nearer. Dana and Walter cried openly, knowing that what was about to happen was going to be dreadfully painful. Neither wanted to die.

"Walter, I-I love you. Thank you so much for everything you've done for us," Dana sobbed.

"I love you too, Dana. And you, Fox. Both of you. You mean the world to me."

Fox could hear them. He wanted to scream, wanted to tell them how he felt. But still he couldn't move. He could barely think at all.

"We know you love us, too," Dana said as she kissed him full on the lips.

As the first lick of fire nabbed at Walter's back, he sheltered his two friends as best he could with his body as he cried out in pain. Death had begun.

* * *

><p>Two doctors and five nurses stood around the two beds which contained three comatose people. They'd been mulling over this most unusual problem for several hours, yet were no closer to deducing its cause than they had been when Nurse Aimen had first discovered them.<p>

Suddenly Skinner screamed and sat bolt upright in bed. He was sweating profusely, and his skin took on a reddish tone, as though he were overheating. Everyone jumped into action, pulling him out of the bed, taking him to a separate room for diagnosis.

Then a nurse was startled when Scully, too, screamed, and sat bolt upright in bed. She as well was sweating and her skin began turning red. The nurse hollered for a doctor, and soon Scully was whisked away to a separate room.

One nurse remained to watch over Mulder, who still slept on. One hour passed, then two. But Mulder did not awaken. Skinner and Scully were finally allowed back into the room. They rushed to his side, their concern for him outweighing thoughts of their own physical discomfort. Luckily, what had happened to them in the dream hadn't actually burned their skin in real life. However, they remembered nothing of the dream. Scully didn't recall anything from all the dreams she'd had either.

"What's wrong with him?" Scully asked of no one. "Why isn't he waking up?"

"I don't know. We woke up screaming, the doctor said. One right after the other. You'd think he'd wake up, too, if our problems were the same."

More time passed. Scully sat on the edge of the bed holding Mulder's hand while Walter restlessly paced the floor, trying in vain to recall the comatose events. On one pass by the room door, he chanced to look up and saw a face which felt familiar to him.

Paul entered the room, a concerned look upon his face.

"Who are you?" Dana asked, tearing her eyes from Fox's face.

"I am Paul. I am here to help you. To help Fox."

"What can you do?" she asked. For some reason, she trusted this man, though she had no idea why.

"I am he who has brought Fox to the place he is now. I knew of his fear of fire, yet I did not know it would so completely paralyze him."

"This is sick! I can't believe you're doing this to us!"

"It is for your own good, Dana. Do you not now recognize the feelings of love you have for this man? For both of these men?"

She stared dumbstruck at Paul as he came nearer the bed. "Well-I-"

"You must get past your self-made fears, Dana. Or you _will_ have to die in order to experience the kind of happiness you shared in this last dream."

"Happiness. Yes, I remember the feelings, but not the dream. What happened? Why does my skin feel burned even though it looks fine?"

"It does not matter now," Paul replied, grasping Fox's free hand. "I must enter Fox's dream world with him, to show him the way out."

Paul lay down on the bed next to Fox. As he brought his forehead to Fox's temple, he said, "I will not be coming back. Once I enter, I will be caught there for all eternity."

"But why?" Skinner asked.

Paul turned to face him. "If I actually help him, if I go against the way of my angels, I must spend eternity in the place I help him from. It is our way. I cannot in good conscience leave him there. It would defeat the entire purpose of what the three of you have experienced. I will send him back to you, and then this body shall die."

"One more question," Walter said, going to stand next to Scully.

"Yes?"

"Why did the dreams occur at 3:14 each time?"

Paul smiled. "In the future, 3/14 will become a very meaningful date to all three of you. Let's just say I was having a little fun."

And then Paul touched Mulder's temple with his forehead, and instantly went limp.

Walter put his arm around Dana as she wrapped her arms around herself. All they could do now was wait.

* * *

><p>Fox Mulder was in hell.<p>

The flames continued to burn him, but he could not die. He was stuck, in some sort of twisted suspended animation. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even shed a tear. He'd seen both Skinner and Scully disappear, and the thought that perhaps they were safe was all which made the pain bearable.

Was he forever to be surrounded by the one thing which could inspire deathly fear in him as no other thing could? Fire?

An eternity seemed to pass. All Fox could think was that no matter how long he had been in this place, he would be here longer. Had he really been such a terrible person that when he died, hell was his reward? Was this what he had to look forward to? Where was his Scully? Where was Skinner? He prayed they hadn't gone to some similar form of punishment.

Well, that was silly. At least for Scully. Fox knew darn well if she died she'd be going up, not down. She was an angel on Earth-he knew she'd put all those other angels to shame.

"And right you'd be."

Fox's head whipped around toward the voice, and suddenly recognized the face as belonging to the man who'd taken Scully from him on the helicopter. It seemed like a thousand years ago.

"I know you cannot speak. I am here to guide you out from this place. You do not belong here. You belong with your Dana and with Walter. I will help you. But you must believe."

Fox frowned and shook his head. Believe what?

"You must believe in yourself. That you are a good and whole person. You must believe in the strength of the friendship which you know you can build with Walter. You must also believe in the undying love which you and Dana share. Dwell on these things, and I will help you to pass from this world back into your own."

Fox closed his eyes, picturing his Scully, picturing Skinner, picturing himself. He saw the three of them together, holding one another. For the first time in his life, he could actually feel love. Yes. He loved them both so very much. How was this possible? He'd always loved Scully. He couldn't recall a time when he hadn't. But Walter? He'd come to respect the man, yes, but-love him?

"Yes, love," Paul interrupted his thoughts. "As a child loves his father, so do you love Walter."

Fox smiled, his eyes still closed. A father. A real, live father who loved him and was proud of him. Yes, that was Walter's role in his life. His smile widened. Suddenly he began to feel cooler, the flames no longer torturing his skin with their raging heat. But so lost was in his newfound thoughts of love and family that he didn't notice exactly what was going on.

Paul went to stand where Fox had once stood, as the human slowly rose into the air, past the flames, up away from the bowels of hell-where Paul was now destined to spend his eternity. He sighed. He knew he could handle it. Fox never would have been able to. Besides, his place was with Walter and Dana.

Paul was quite willing to sacrifice himself in order to see proper completion of this assignment. It's just the way he was.

He cringed, however, as a familiar voice boomed around him. "Ah, so one of My fallen disciples has returned, I see."

"Oh, God," Paul gasped.

"On the contrary," the voice replied. "Far from it."

As Fox left his hell, the most evil laughter ever heard echoed behind him-luckily, he wasn't aware of it.

* * *

><p>Dana had been feeling Paul's wrist for a pulse on and off for the past hour. Each time she'd checked, he'd still been alive. Now she turned to Walter, who leaned against the hospital room door. "Something must be wrong," she stated simply. "Shouldn't Mulder be back by now?"<p>

Skinner removed his glasses rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I have no idea. We'll just have to wait and see."

"I can't wait any longer!" Dana cried out. Her uncharacteristic outburst surprised Walter. "I finally realized I love him-I want him back!"

As tears formed in her eyes, Walter crossed quickly to envelop her in his arms. "It will work out. Things always work out for the two of you, don't you know that? After all these years, you always come back together no matter what separates you. This will be no different."

Dana nodded into his chest, ashamed of her behavior, but not oblivious to the fact that letting her emotions out in this way, voicing her fears to someone she trusted, felt so very good. She'd never done that with anyone but her mom.

She jumped out of Walter's arms. "MOM!" she yelled.

"What?"

"My mother! Oh, God, she's still in the hospital, isn't she? Or is she home? How could I forget about my own mother! She was almost killed!"

"I'll find out," Walter said as he strode out of the room. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about Mrs. Scully either. After all, that's how the agents had come to be aboard that blasted helicopter to begin with.

Scully was shaking with fear now. Not only were Mulder and Paul lying in this bed unconscious, not only had something really, really weird happened to her, Mulder and Skinner, but now she realized she'd forgotten all about her mother, who was probably on her death bed somewhere right now, wondering why her only remaining daughter hadn't even called, let alone come to see her. Dana sank onto the bed next to Fox as her tears flowed freely. What if she never talked to her mom again?

About twenty minutes passed. Dana's tears had subsided. For right now, she just felt very dead inside. Walter reentered the room and came to stand next to the woman he thought of as a daughter. "Any change in them?" he asked, nodding toward the two men on the bed.

"No. Did you find out anything about my mom?"

"Yes," Walter replied. "She's fine. She's back at home now. Charlie is there with her taking care of her, along with a round-the-clock nurse. I spoke to Charlie and briefly told him what happened, so he's going to tell your mother."

Dana let out a huge sigh of relief and sank back against Walter, who stood behind her. "Thank God," she breathed.

Without warning, Mulder suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes wide, his mouth open as though in shock. Scully yelped in surprise and would've fallen off the bed if not for Walter being right there.

"Mulder!" she squealed in delight.

He turned his head to see them both staring at him, looks of pure joy on their faces. Softly, he whispered, "Scully." More than just a hint of affection could be heard in his voice. Then he looked up at where his boss towered over him. "Sir."

"It's Walter, Mulder. Call me Walter." He stuck his hand out. Fox took it firmly, smiling broadly.

"Oh, Mulder, I-"

"Shh. It's okay. I'm back now." Mulder lay a hand over his partner's small, trembling one. "Come here."

With barely a second of hesitation, Dana climbed into bed with him and snuggled into his arms. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, she gasped.

For Paul was gone.

Completely. Without a trace of his ever having been there.

Scully quickly explained to Mulder who Paul was and what he'd done, as well as where he'd been laying for the past hour or so. The three then exchanged glances, marveling in silence at the wonder of what they'd just been through.

It seemed utterly unbelievable.

* * *

><p>"Dana, come in here and help me with this!" Maggie Scully called.<p>

"Hold on, Mom-I'm fixing Mulder's tie."

Dana finished straightening the offending tie and shared a smile with Mulder. For once, he was going to church with his wife and his mother-in-law.

And it was all because last night, she'd revealed a miracle to him. After much hard work by both of them and The Lone Gunmen, Scully had conceived.

They were going to tell Maggie when they took her out to lunch after church. That was the only reason Mulder agreed to go.

"Dana!" Maggie called from the kitchen.

"Coming, Mom!"

Mulder took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. "I love you, Mrs. Mulder."

"And I love you, Mr. Mulder," she beamed when they parted. She lay a hand on her still-flat stomach. "We both do."

**THE END**


End file.
